


Watercolour

by Kaiperion



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, I'll update these tags as I go, Inquisitor Anders (Dragon Age), Twin Hawkes, anti chantry/templar, please let me know if I miss something, pro mage rights, there might be smut but like much much later idk i'll tag it then
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26249305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiperion/pseuds/Kaiperion
Summary: They had only come to the Conclave to talk to the Divine. The plan was get in, speak their point, and get out before anyone got any ideas, but Anders can't remember past entering the temple and now there's a mysterious and painful mark on his left hand, the Conclave has been destroyed, and Hawke is missing and presumed dead. Held at knife-point to help fix this mess, he has no choice but to comply. After all he has one more reason left to live and he'll do anything to see it safe.Becoming the Herald of Andraste was the least of the titles Anders thought he'd ever get stuck with.The Maker sure had a sense of humor in dishing out punishments.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [Check out the title song here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tb0CwlQW0M)
> 
> I love seeing everyone's takes on what happens if Anders becomes Inquisitor and honestly it would have done a lot for the meshing of the series if he had been. Inquisition has always felt a little disjointed from the other two games. I wanted to try my hand at the idea.
> 
> Enjoy! And let me know what you think :)

“I hate this.”

Mass groups of templars scowling at everything even remotely magical. Militant and firm in their beliefs that all mages were a danger to everyone and needed to be caged or put down.

Said mages milled about unorganized, giving the templars a wide berth but they were free. There was an accord here after all. No one to be harmed on Andraste’s holy lands while they discussed matters of peace.

This Conclave was a ticking time bomb.

He would know.

Anders followed closely behind his love, Branwyn Hawke’s form as well as his own concealed by shadows and the shapelessness of the cloaks they wore. It was funny to see her try to be stealthy with her heavy armor but if anyone recognized them, fighting their way out of here would be impossible. Mages blamed him for their current predicament and hostilities with the templars and the templars were… well they were templars but especially vengeful ones towards him after Kirkwall lost its Chantry.

This was absolutely suicide.

“Talking to the Divine was  _ your  _ idea.” Branwyn reminded him as they stepped around a group of animatedly chatting apprentices.

“I meant in a setting preferably with about a thousand less templars present.” Anders admitted, gripping her cloak to keep her close like a child frightened of getting lost.

She snorted at him, “You expect the head of the Chantry to be surrounded by less than a thousand templars at any given time?” An exaggeration and it would have been true enough under normal circumstances but the templars and the Chantry weren’t playing nice these days.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes rose before them as they turned a corner.

“This is our best shot.” Branwyn continued under her breath, “We sneak in, try to get her alone to persuade her and then we leave. We’ll be back in time to tuck Liam into bed. Easy.”

“I wish your confidence was infectious.” he whispered back anxiously.

She only took his hand and pulled him towards a side entrance, apparently an easy way for any caretakers of the temple to enter and exit. Now it was being used as a sort of servants entry. Chantry sisters coming and going and fretting over preparations.

A templar was posted as a guard. Anders idly wondered how that had happened. Getting in wouldn’t be easy.

“Okay.” Branwyn began, pulling him behind a pillar that was out of sight, “What are our options?”

Biting his lip, Anders thought through the spells he could cast on the fly that would help get them inside. Most of them were healing or fighting related. Either completely useless for their situation or way too loud and flashy for the stealth they were trying to maintain.

He lamented the fact that he had left his Grimoire with Branwyn’s twin, Cian. It would have been useful to have it but he didn’t want it destroyed if they were caught. He wanted to leave  _ something  _ behind for Liam. Just in case.

“We could wait for a lull in traffic and I could put him to sleep?” Anders offered after some deliberation, “But we won’t have a lot of time before he wakes and he’ll know magic was used on him once he does.”

“Then we best be quick.” Branwyn nodded.

Anders regretted opening his mouth to her sometimes. Half of him was scared for both of their lives. Mainly for her since he was having the nightmares again; hearing the one thing he really wished he wouldn’t hear. The song was incredibly loud here for some reason and he rubbed his temple to fight off a headache. The other very persistent, very loud and  _ pushy  _ half of him wouldn’t let him waste this opportunity. Forget the fact that they had a four-year-old waiting on them to return.

_ We’re doing this for him. So he can have a future. _

He cursed Justice’s thought as it entered his head. The spirit was right of course. The Hawke family had evaded capture for years but it was never a life he wanted for any children he had if any. Still, it was better than any Circle and yet…

Alas, their hands had been dealt and the deck was stacked against them. All they had was the one ace up their sleeve and all the symbolism that came with a spade.

Eventually, the door opened and closed much more infrequently and Branwyn peeked around the pillar before indicating to Anders to cast his sleep spell. Thankfully no one else was around to see the guard fall or spot the two shrouded figures slip into the door as he did.

Everything was quiet and eerily calm as the mages and templars continued to make their way into the temple.

Then the world went white, shook violently, and a hole ripped into the sky.


	2. The Wrath of Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the title song here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tb0CwlQW0M)

Anders woke immediately in a panic.

A dark and damp cell lit by a couple braziers, guards posted around him, swords drawn, manacle around his wrists.

It was all too familiar and wrong.

The crushing weight of his predicament barely let him grasp reality, instead pelting him with memories of a similarly dark cell, lonely, half-starved, poisoned by magebane in only his smalls and shivering against a biting cold as he cried against unforgiving stone walls.

He had been nineteen then. He was quite older now.

His panicked breathing blurred his vision and threatened to knock him out again but he tried to calm himself down. He had to figure out how this happened.

How  _ did  _ this happen?

He remembered Branwyn reminding him how to breathe, how to treat a panic attack. Remembered how she instructed him to follow her, her hands framing his face to hold his attention.

_ Slowly in. Hold. One. Two. Three. Slowly out. There you go, love, that’s it. I’ve got you. _

Her voice had been calm. Soothing. He wished she was with him now, but she was probably in an entirely different building.

They just  _ had  _ to go and get themselves caught.

They had been so careful trying to get into the temple. What had given them away?

Anders reached into his memory but was met with nothing after he had put the guard to sleep. Had he been hit over the head?

A strange crackling sound filled his ears with a green glow emanating from his hand.

His eyes widened. Was he inadvertently casting? He carefully opened his palm to see but suddenly a pain so blinding it stole his hard-earned breath, ripped through his hand and paralyzed his whole arm.

He screamed. It felt like demons were trying to pull his hand apart. The Fade leaked through a tear in his left palm and he might have noticed it sooner if he hadn’t been panicking. Now he noticed it and now he panicked harder.

What was that?  _ What was that? _

Where was he? Where was Branwyn? What happened?

“He’s going to pass out again.” a voice said from around him.

“Let him. Perhaps he’ll die this time.”

“Seeker says he has to stay alive long enough for questioning and a trial.”

“Pointless, I say. If he didn’t do this, I’ll eat my left boot. After Kirkwall, there’s no way he didn’t.”

What were they talking about?

He had to calm down. He needed more information and he wasn’t going to get it by hyperventilating repeatedly on the ground.

Forehead against the stone of the cell, Anders closed his eyes and willed himself to be calm. More memories of Branwyn breathing with him helped and he realized belatedly that it was Justice reaching for them. He was thankful for the help.

It took awhile before he felt calm enough to pick himself up, sitting on his knees.

He glanced around warily, expecting a contingent of templars ready to behead him at a moment’s notice. Instead he was surprised to find no templars in attendance at all. These were common soldiers, clearly seasoned, but their uniforms were unmarked. Templars in disguise perhaps?

Anders felt his brow furrow. Had… Had the Conclave just been an elaborate trap to capture the mages?

He mulled over the thought. If that were the case then their departure from the Chantry had been a ploy the whole time and their rebellion was lost. At least Cian could keep Liam safe. Perhaps they would head to Rivain as they had planned once so long ago.

_ Liam… _

This one reckless mistake had made their son an orphan. Just like that.

His eyes misted over and his chest contracted painfully, but he closed his eyes and willed the despair away. He would at least go to his death with dignity.

The green glow from his palm caught his eye and he slowly turned his hand over to examine it further as though afraid of what he might find. It glowed of the Fade, a jagged scar of emerald that Justice found warm and familiar.

At least until that sickening cracking sound happened again and it flared brightly as it tried to split open his hand cell by cell.

Anders cried out, but barely had enough time to catch his breath before the door to his cell burst open and two women stepped in.

One of them was clearly a warrior. Slightly stocky yet still feminine. She reminded him of some of the templars with her cropped, dark hair and severe expression. The sword at her side was also a dead giveaway.

The other woman however, was familiar. Short red hair hidden under a hood and seemingly shrouded in shadow even metaphorically despite standing in the light of the braziers. He remembered her from Chateau Haine. Sister Leliana. She looked at him with a hurt expression he couldn’t explain. A sort of expression that begged for something not to be true when all evidence said it was.

Not-Leliana walked around behind him and he resisted the urge to turn. He recognized an intimidation tactic. He was pretty well-versed in them by this point.

Suddenly her voice was in his ear, Nevarran accent thick on her tongue as she spoke gravely, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” He flinched and leaned away from her but she continued, “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for  _ you _ .” The way she said her last sentence was accusatory. This woman knew who he was. His guilt was already decided in her eyes.

But that was all background observation. Her words bounced around in his head violently, tearing through the last remaining vestiges of control on his panic.

The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.

Everyone who attended is dead.

Everyone is dead.

_ Everyone _

Where was Branwyn?

His silence didn’t stop his interrogation. She either couldn’t tell or didn’t care about it as she grabbed his arm and lifted it up, “Explain this.” She demanded, throwing it down harshly as it snapped and crackled.

Anders wanted to cry out but his voice was caught in his throat. Until it wasn’t and instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own, desperate.

“Where is Hawke?”

She pulled up short, narrowing her silver eyes at him, “You refer to the Champion? Was she with you? An accomplice?”

“Please.” he begged, “Please tell me you have her in another cell.  _ Please _ .”

“Answer my question, mage. Explain your mark. I will not ask again.”

“I can’t.” He admitted, trembling despite himself, from the cold or their lack of answer to his question, he wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean you can’t?” She asked, incredulity in her tone tinging the anger there.

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there.”

She rushed him with a growl, “You’re lying!” but Leliana grabbed her arm to stop her.

“We need him, Cassandra.” the sister reasoned. That statement made the other woman scoff in disgust before she walked a few steps away to cool down. Leliana turned back to him, “Do you remember what happened? How this began?” she asked, calm, cool, and collected.

Anders tried to reach back and determine where things went wrong but he couldn’t get past putting the guard to sleep. The moments after slipped through his fingers like water. It was unnerving having the gap in his memory. Like it was there but locked away just out of reach. “Hawke and I just wanted to speak to the Divine to help her understand. We weren’t trying to…” he grit his teeth and swallowed a groan of frustration, “I know my reputation with Kirkwall but this wasn’t me. I swear it.”

Leliana was quiet a moment, likely weighing the odds of his truth. Then she spoke lowly, as if preparing herself for a bad reaction, “The Conclave was destroyed by an explosion. We have found no evidence of the Champion. Everyone within and around the temple was killed.”

It took a moment but that bad reaction did come.

It felt like he’d suddenly been stabbed in the chest repeatedly, nevermind the memory that brought up. A choked sound escaped him and he curled inward, pulling in a ragged breath as the reality of the situation washed over him.

This wasn’t fair.

_ It wasn’t fair. _

_ He  _ was supposed to be the one to go. Not her.  _ Not her _ .

Maker, it was his fault. If he hadn’t opened his mouth, they’d be halfway to Rivain by now.

His fault.

_ His  _ fault.

_ His fault. _

He didn’t realize he was openly sobbing, wretched wails torn from his throat until he sucked in a burning breath and realized his head was on the floor again by the dust he inhaled and choked on.

As he coughed, he heard the warrior, Cassandra, speak to her companion, “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift.”

Her tone was softer but cautiously so and she knelt in front of him, removing his shackles and binding his wrists in rope instead. She ignored his sobs and he tried to stifle them. He probably looked like a child to her, snivelling like this. He couldn’t find it in him to care. It didn’t matter. One of the most important things in his life was gone. Again. He could only take so much loss.

“Why won’t you just kill me?” he begged her.

Her gaze was sharp as she met his. He couldn't tell if it was surprise on her features from his words or at the audacity of him to challenge her as though she wouldn’t do what he asked. His sincerity must have shown because she sighed heavily, “That is not possible until we know for sure what happened.”

“Oh.” He nodded, defeated, then sniffled and cleared his throat, “What did happen?”

She lifted him to his feet and steadied him as his legs began to regain feeling, “It would be easier to show you.”

Once he was steady, she walked out of the door she had come in, gesturing for him to follow.

Head hung low, he stepped through the door and was met with a light so bright, he had to turn away while his eyes adjusted from the darkness of the cell. A migraine threatened with an angry twinge behind his eyes but he turned and blinked rapidly in order to find where Cassandra had gone.

She was stopped a few feet ahead staring up at the sky but not to admire the clouds.

No, a column of Fade was roiling and spitting out veilfire from a massive hole in the sky.

Anders pales at the sight, breath caught in his throat as the icy mountain air dried the saline trails on his cheeks.

He didn’t do that. He couldn’t have. Right? He reached for Justice but there was nothing the spirit could give him. Not even a feeling of confirmation. He stared at the thing in the sky, eyes wide.

What  _ was  _ that?

“We call it the breach.” Cassandra said suddenly, not taking her eyes from it, “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows with each passing hour.” She turned to look at him, “It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

Anders winced, feeling his throat tighten and ache.

_ Branwyn… _

“An explosion can do that?” he asked instead, voice thick with emotion and screams he kept locked within his chest.

“This one did. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

_ That’s bad _ , he thought just as the breach let out a terrible crack like lake ice. The thing on his hang reacted and lit a fire through his nerves, hot and merciless as it seemed to pull his arm towards the breach itself.

He cried out and dropped to his knees, curling over it and trying to wrestle with the sensation through grit teeth.

Cassandra dropped down to a knee in front of him urgently, but provided him no help, “Each time the breach expands,” she gestured towards it, “your mark spreads and it  _ is  _ killing you. It may be the key to stopping this.”

He growled, thinking he’d rather let the damn thing kill him, but he couldn’t leave this world knowing Liam might not be safe. Maker only knew if they were alright.

_ The breach may swallow the world… _

He closed his eyes to calm himself, then opened them again to level her with an intense stare, “You say it  _ may  _ be the key. To doing what?”

“Closing the breach.” she provided, “Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however.” her voice lowered with the gravity of the situation, “And yours.”

Well this was bloody fantastic. The Maker had a morbid sense of humor.

The accusation in that last sentence rankled him, indignation puffing him up, “You still think I did this? To myself?”

“Not intentionally. Something clearly went wrong.”

“You think?! Why would I want any of this? I’ve been fighting for our rights as living beings, not trying to villainize us further. I’m not responsible for this. I can’t be.”

“Someone is and you are our only suspect. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.”

The words tasted bitter as he spit them out, “So I don’t really have a choice.” He never did. Damn the Chantry straight to the void.

“None of us has a choice.” Cassandra reminded him and helped to stand him up again.

She walked him around a building and into a large throng of people. Some were pacing. Some were crying. Some were sitting melancholy or kneeling and praying. Chantry sisters were singing the Chant and trying to comfort the hysterical and frightened.

He froze as many of those eyes turned to him in anger and outrage. After so many years on the run, to finally be noticed like  _ this _ ...

_ Too many eyes. Too many eyes… _

Cassandra didn’t let him stop for long, pushing him up the path as the crowd began to line the way, held at bay only by her icy gaze.

“Cursed mage!” someone shouted.

“Murderer!” Came another voice.

He ducked his head as the woman pulled him along by his arm. No one threw more than words but someone did spit at him.

“They have decided your guilt.” Cassandra said, “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry.”

The Divine didn’t make it either?

Anders swallowed bile and shuddered. He was definitely dead now.

“It was a chance for peace between mages and templars.” Cassandra continued as they left the people and ended up on an empty path towards a towering gate, “She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.” The gate opened thanks to a guard and she led him through, “We lash out like the sky but we must think beyond ourselves as she did. Until the breach is sealed.”

She stopped him then, stepping around to face him, “Your actions in Kirkwall do you no favors for what has happened here. Surely you know this. Many here would not hesitate to execute you and with good reason.”

Anders didn’t respond but met her gaze tiredly.

“You can attempt to atone for it here. Perhaps the Maker has decided this as your punishment. I cannot say.” She pulled a knife from her belt and his heart sped up for a moment until she lifted his wrists and cut the rope binding them away, “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.”

Anders rubbed his wrists, red from the rope, “It’s more than I expected to be honest.”

Cassandra frowned, “Come. It is not far.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.”

She led him further up the path towards a bend. Once they turned it, the breach cracked and expanded again, calling to his mark and forcing him to his knees with the pain. It was getting easier to manage but it still burned through him with a vengeance. He cradled his palm against his stomach as though that would stop the pain, but of course it did nothing.

He considered pulling at the Fade to try and heal it or at least numb the skin and nerves around it but the relative silence from Justice and the giant fucking tear in the veil put him at incredible risk. Cassandra was definitely of the Chantry. She would recognize the risk and probably cut him down there.

Instead, he struggled to his feet with her assistance. He had to at least find out if Liam was okay before they killed him. For Branwyn’s sake.

“The pulses are coming faster now.” Cassandra said, “The larger the rift growns, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

“How  _ did  _ I survive the blast?” and  _ why _ ?

She turned to lead him towards the bridge again, “They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

“Ah. Probably Hawke.” His throat closed up and he had to stop a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose and prevent despair from washing over him. He couldn’t stop the stuttered gasp. Damn her. Always protecting him with no regard for herself.

Cassandra watched him with a careful eye, “Everything farther in the valley was laid waste. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

She led him to the bridge where soldiers were running across. As they reached the center, a blast from the breach slammed into the path and the foundation crumbled, sending them crashing to the ice below.

Thankfully, the fall didn’t do any more than knock the wind out of him. As he scrambled to his feet, a burnt globule of Fade residue opened the veil for a shade to climb through, screaming in agony and rage as it moved forward to attack.

Looking to his left, he saw Cassandra appear, battle ready, sword and shield brandished.

“Get behind me!” She shouted as she rushed the creature.

She was able to push it away but not before it got a couple swipes in past her armor.

Next to him, another globule of Fade boiled and burned a hole into the veil. Cassandra was too far away and any damage he tried with magic would be unfocused and inefficient unlike his healing spells. He wished he had his staff but a stick or something would have to do.

Frantically, he looked around and was surprised to find a staff lying within the rubble of the bridge. He didn’t stop to think about how weird it was to find a staff among Chantry items.

He grabbed it and charged static through his fingers as another shade pulled out of the Fade to attack him. Letting loose the spell brought lightning forth from his fingers and into the beast, the creature twitching erratically.

It seemed to think better of its attack and turned away from him to instead attack Cassandra.

“No you don’t.” he hissed, channeling energy up the staff and out of the focusing crystal to hit the thing with several arcanic bolts. It was dead before it could reach the woman and he walked over as she was finishing the other demon off.

“It’s over.” He told her, but she turned on him then, anger in her eyes and posture aggressive and he raised the staff in defense.

“Drop your weapon now!” She demanded.

Annoyed, he growled, “A demon attacked me! What was I supposed to do?”

“You don’t need to fight.”

“And I don’t need a staff to use magic either.”

She grit her teeth but then rolled her eyes with a huff, “You’re right.” She sheathed her sword and turned away slowly, “I cannot protect you and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” She stopped and turned back as he followed her, “I should remember you did not attempt to leave.”

He only pursed his lips and nodded.

As they continued up the path, several more demons attacked. Many of them got hits in on Cassandra and by the time they reached the stairway to take them out of the frozen stream, she was weary and worn down.

He was hesitant to touch her but she needed his help just as much as he needed hers.

She jumped when he grabbed her elbow gently to get her attention. “What do you want?” She snapped.

“To do my job.” He bit back, “I’m a healer, remember?”

“You will not use magic on me.”

“You can’t keep going like this and I can’t fix this without you. Let me help. Please.”

Perhaps it was the sincerity in his voice or the truth of his words that finally allowed him to heal her. She sighed and nodded.

Anders reached for Justice and channeled him through the Fade, fine precision stitching cuts and healing bruises. The Fade seemed to hum when he drew from it and he could feel a sort of elation at the sound, perhaps Justice being pleased at this unexpected connection to his home. He felt like he could dip endlessly into his mana reserves and never tire. It felt exhilarating and dizzying all at once.

A ripple through the Fade and Anders felt a spell cast nearby. His head snapped in that direction as he finished healing Cassandra.

She stood and stretched, “You have a gift.”

He nodded, “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

He followed her gesture up the stairs, “We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.” She walked past him to continue leading him presumably towards this rift.

“Who’s fighting?” he asked.

“You’ll see soon. We must help them.”

Vague. He shrugged and followed her.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Cassandra broke into a run to help clear out a cluster of demons.

Anders prepared a spell but hesitated when he spotted a familiar leather coat on a familiar dwarf using a familiar crossbow. “Varric?!” He shouted in surprise.

Varric, conversely, didn’t seem surprised to see him at all, “Hey Blondie!” he shouted back, firing a bolt into a demon’s back, “Mind giving us a hand?”

“Right.” He finished the spell, clouds forming and rolling over a green, cracking, snapping, and crystallizing rift. Then he lifted his hand up and pulled the lightning out of the clouds in a tempest, several strikes hitting their targets and some of the demons disintegrated entirely. Cleaning them up was short work.

As the last died, a bald, elven man, a  _ mage _ , grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the rift. “Quickly!” he yelled over the rift’s screams and creaks, “Before more come through!” and he thrust the mark towards the rift itself.

It didn’t take much convincing. It seemed the mark was almost magnetically attracted to the Fade, keeping his arm extended as a link formed between the rift and his palm.

Anders winced at the pins-and-needles sensation. The link was wild and erratic but steadily became strong and taught like a fishing line. He felt he could grab and pull on it.

So that’s what he did.

The link turned from epeheral to solid in his palm and he instinctually yanked the thread out of the heart of the rift. It shattered and collapsed, disappearing entirely.

Shocked, Anders pulled his hand back and looked to the elven man, “What did you do?”

An earthly smile met him, “I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

He looked down to his hand again, “You mean this?”

“Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand.” the elf explained, seeming silently pleased with himself, “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the breach’s wake and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the breach itself.” Cassandra said hopefully, walking up next to Anders.

“Possibly.” came the reply,”It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Andraste’s tits, of-fucking-course…

Anders bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

“Good to know.” came Varric’s unmistakable voice, “And here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.”

Anders quickly turned around and dropped to his knees before the dwarf, embracing him. Thankfully, the dwarf returned the hug.

“Should have known you’d be behind this one, Blondie.” It seemed harsh but the tone was light. He was joking.

Anders managed a laugh as his eyes watered from the relief of having a friend nearby, “I swear this wasn’t me.”

“Then you have the worst luck.”

“Tell me about it.” He pulled back and stood, “Why are you here?”

Varric adjusted his gloves, “Technically I’m a prisoner. Just like you.”

Cassandra grumbled behind the mage, “I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer necessary.” and clearly Varric had been working his charm over on her tenfold.

“Yet here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events.”

“I can’t believe you got caught.” Anders said warily, “What did-”

“No need to worry, Blondie. Your secret’s safe with me. Always has been.”

Anders relaxed a bit. At least until the next question.

“Nevermind me though. A gathering of templars is the last place I’d figure you’d be. What are you doing here? Where’s Hawke?”

The world shattered around him again, a pained noise escaping him. He was going to succumb to despair at this rate, despite Justice actively fighting against it.

Varric took his reaction for what it was and suddenly he was pulled down to the dwarf’s level, “Tell me you didn’t bring Junior with you.”

Anders numbly shook his head and he was let go, barely able to keep himself from falling over.

“Shit…” Varric sighed, “There isn’t even time to mourn. How come you survived and she didn’t?”

“Punishment?” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but Varric only laughed dryly.

“”Seems the most likely reason, doesn’t it?”

“I wish it had been me. I never wanted to come here.”

Varric gave another, heavier sigh, “She never would have let it be you.”

Anders cinched his eyes shut at that truth.

_ You’re going to get hurt trying to protect me! I can take care of myself! _

_ Protecting is what I do, love. Consequences be damned. _

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

From beside him, the elf mage cleared his throat, “My name is Solas if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’” Varric helpfully supplied.

“You seem to know a great deal about it all.” Anders replied, clearing his throat.

“Like you, Solas is an apostate.” Cassandra said, “Well versed in such matters.”

“Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade far beyond the experience of any Circle mage.”

“That’s not hard.” Anders agreed, “Circles are cages. Anything we could learn through experience is forfeit once we’re dragged off in chains. Are you a dreamer?”

Solas’ eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’ve not met many who know of such a talent.”

Anders shrugged, “There was a boy in Kirkwall with the same gift. Varric, H-Hawke and I-” he paused to take a slow breath through his nose, “We helped get him to Tevinter where he could hone his talent outside the Circle. They most likely would have made him tranquil anywhere else. You’re lucky you haven’t been caught.”

Solas hummed with a frown, “I suppose I am. My condolences for your friend. Were you close?”

“We were married.”

“Seriously?” Cassandra said from behind him with a sort of astonishment to her voice.

Anders held up his left hand to show the ring on his ring finger she must have missed with a pained smile.

“You never mentioned  _ that _ .” her growl was directed at Varric.

“It happened long after the story, Seeker. What good would it have done to know?”

She turned away with a huff at the truth of Varric’s words.

“This must be a very difficult time for you.” Solas admitted solemnly.

“Yes.” Anders agreed as he turned back to the elf.

“And what of your friend here?”

Anders cocked his head, confused, “Varric?”

“Your spirit friend.”

He froze, “How did you know?”

“Such things are easy to discern with training. I assume your friend helps you with your healing.”

Anders cleared his throat, “Yes. He is a spirit of Justice.”

“A mutually beneficial joining, I take it.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

Solas shook his head, “He would not have joined with you if he thought otherwise.”

“Why are you here?” Anders asked, curious.

“I came to offer whatever help I can with the breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

“I had less choice in volunteering to help.”

Solas smiled sadly at him, but turned to the Seeker, “Cassandra, you should know. The magic involved here is unlike any I’ve seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“Understood.” Cassandra sighed, “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

“Well,” Varric began as they started walking, “Bianca’s excited.”

Anders’ smile was strained, “I missed you, Varric.”

“You too, Blondie.”

They fought their way towards another gate, demons barely giving them pause enough to rest before they attacked again.

It was around this time Anders realized that there was indeed still a limit to his mana reserves, though they were certainly deeper than they had been before, his spells stronger and longer than he remembered.

He had to drink the lyrium potion Cassandra gave him before they reached the gate.

“Careful, Seeker.” Varric warned sarcastically with a grin as Anders stitched a gash closed on her shoulder, “Don’t want to become dependent on the spirit healer you’re going to execute.”

Cassandra grimaced at him in disgust, “I am  _ not  _ becoming dependent.”

“Whatever you say. Though I’ve never seen you allow so many hits in when you fight.”

“Quiet you. I am simply distracted.”

“Of course, Seeker.”

“So you’re a Seeker of Truth then?” Anders asked, changing the subject.

“You mean she didn’t tell you?” Varric asked incredulously, shaking his head, “I’ll bet they didn’t even introduce themselves properly. Or mention who all these soldiers are.”

“The prisoner is accused of a terrible crime.” Cassandra reminded him, “Several actually.”

“But you still need his help. Unless you’re taking him into the valley for a brisk walk and some air.”

She scoffed at him unhappily before shaking herself free from Anders’ healing spell and walking off.

Anders frowned but looked to Varric, calling some rejuvenating energy for his friend, “So who are they then? I sort of remember Leliana from Chateau Haine.”

“Cassandra and Leliana were the left and right hand of the Divine respectively.” Varric informed him, “They were the Divine’s unofficial agents doing things like gathering these soldiers.”

Solas stepped up to watch Anders work with curiosity.

“Was that exalted march on Kirkwall coming after all?” Anders asked, suddenly very tired at the thought.

“Nothing like that. Probably.”

“Once the templars abandoned the Chantry to hunt mages, a replacement was needed.” Solas added.

“It is more than that.” Cassandra responded, casting an annoyed look over her shoulder at them.

“So she claims.” Varric slyly postulated, “Clearly the Divine had something in mind for them.”

Cassandra huffed and walked further up the path, “Let’s move on.”

_ Resting over then _ , Anders thought.

Clearly this army wasn’t going after mages as there were no templars involved other than one Seeker of Truth. He wished he could understand all of the pieces of this puzzle and how they related enough to put them together.

“So why did you show up here, Blondie?” Varric asked, breaking his line of thought as they followed behind Cassandra.

“We were going to try and talk to the Divine alone. Beg her to make the templars see reason if it came to that.” he replied honestly, “The month prior was spent hopping from village to village and tending to the wounded that the templars left behind.”

“The templars were attacking regular people?”

“You’re surprised? Anyone they suspected of being a mage was cut down and anyone harboring them was put to death with them.”

“A shocking and vile abuse of power.” Cassandra allowed.

“Just another tuesday in the templar order.”   
She huffed in frustration, “The Circles are to protect everyone. Including mages.”

“Perhaps if the Chantry spent less time preaching about how mages are terrible and horrible creatures just for being born, they wouldn’t be so scared of us.”

“Not the time, Blondie.” Varric quietly reminded him.

Anders growled and ran a hand through his hair before refastening the tie, “You’re right. Fuck it. You’re right. Everything I’ve worked for has done nothing but take away everything important to me time and time again. It’s fine. It’s fucking fine.”

“Easy there. We don’t need an appearance from Justice.”

“Shut up.”

The silence was deafening after that. The crunch of their boots in the snow gave him a headache.

They fought more demons before closing another rift and walking through the gate onto an even bigger bridge than before.

Anders eyed the breach warily as they approached Leliana. The drop would be a long way down if this one was hit hard enough to collapse.

“Ah. Here they come.” came a sardonic and condescending voice that Anders hated on principle. It was an elderly Chantry man, leaned over a table of missives and maps and shadowed by Leliana.

She stepped forward to greet them, “You made it.” The relief in her voice was a refreshing change, “Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

“I know who  _ he  _ is.” the man said disdainfully, “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

Anders didn’t even wince at the demand but he did look over to Cassandra in surprise when she scoffed with incredulity.

“Order me?” She snapped, “You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat.”

“And you are a thug but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry.”

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor.” Leliana reminded him, “As you well know.”

“Justinia is dead!” He shouted but then seemed to calm himself, “We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter.”

Anders blinked, brows furrowed, “So none of you are actually in charge here?”

“You  _ killed  _ everyone in charge!” Roderick snapped at him before turning to Cassandra, “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late.” Cassandra said.

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the temple. It’s the quickest route.”

“But not the safest.” Leliana admitted, “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

Anders looked towards where she pointed.

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path.” Cassandra said, “It’s too risky.”

“Listen to me.” Anders found he wanted to do anything  _ but  _ listen to the Chancellor, “Abandon this now before more lives are lost.”

At that moment, the breach expanded again and Anders hissed as the mark reacted, shaking his arm and lancing white, hot pain through his nerves.

_ Just breathe… _

When he opened his eyes, he found everyone staring at him and shrank under their gazes.

Cassandra sighed and stepped towards him, “How do you think we should proceed?”

The question floored him and he blinked at her in confusion, “Now you’re asking me what  _ I _ think?”

“You have the mark.” Solas reminded him as if it didn’t just remind him itself seconds earlier.

“And you are the one we must keep alive.” Cassandra finished, “Since we cannot agree on our own…?”

He frowned in thought. Sure the safest route would be the best, but he really wasn’t worried about that. He just wanted this over with as soon as possible.

Then again, his whole goal was making sure Liam was safe. He had to at least stay alive long enough to find out.

“Ordinarily, since my life is forfeit, I would say take the quickest way. I wouldn’t care if I died and I’m sure no one here would either.” He ignored Cassandra’s look of surprise, “But since survival is the main goal here, I don’t see why we’re debating about it when we know which way is safest. It shouldn’t matter if we’re a few minutes late or not. It matters that we get there in one piece.”

Cassandra eyed him for a moment before speaking, “Pragmatic. Spoken like a true Warden.”

“Cruel of you to remind me.”

She smirked for just a moment before it disappeared entirely and she turned to the other woman, “Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

And then they were climbing a bloody mountain. Ladder after ladder after ladder and he wanted to torch every last one. His arms felt dead by the time they reached the top and he dragged himself over the last rung onto the wooden platform.

They walked into an old mining complex and were instantly accosted by demons, which they made short work of.

Anders shook out the numbness in his hand from his last spell and flexed his fingers. Once his mana reserves depleted, he’d need lyrium. He made a mental note to be more efficient with his spells to try and last a little longer, a trick he picked up in the Wardens.

After carefully navigating the demon infested mine, they finally saw daylight again, only to find a handful of corpses just beyond the exit.

“Ah,” Varric sighed sadly, “Guess we found the soldiers.”

“That… cannot be all of them.” Cassandra said, clearly confused.

“So the others could be holed up ahead?”

“Our priority must be the breach.” came Solas’ voice, “Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.”

“I’m leaving that to Blondie, here.”

“We’re not going to walk by struggling people without helping. Breach or not.” Anders promised, annoyed slightly at the other mage for the suggestion.

“There’s the Darktown healer I remember.” Varric clapped him on the back lightly in a friendly manner.

Sure enough, further up the path another rift was spitting out demons and the remaining contingent of soldiers were desperately fighting them off.

“Lady Cassandra!” A feminine voice shouted in surprise and relief.

“Lieutenant! You’re alive!” Cassandra explained as she dispatched a wraith.

“Barely.”

“Demons now, reunions later.” Anders hissed as he chained lightning through two terror demons, stunning them.

Solas froze them long enough for Varric to shatter them with two well-placed bolts just as Cassandra brought hers down with a lethal lunge.

Anders ran up to the rift and lifted his marked hand to it. As before, it seemed to magnetically attract to the rift and he could better explain the feeling. The mark pierced the center of the rift like a needle and the rift attached to his mark like strands of thread. He waited for the threads to intertwine, needle passing through fabric, before he grabbed the thread and pulled, tugging the new stitch in the veil closed with a violent snap. It was like giving stitches. He was stitching the veil closed.

Slightly winded, Solas stepped up to observe his work. “Sealed. As before.” He nodded, “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

Anders shrugged in response, “It doesn’t seem much different to any other surgery.”

“Let’s hope it works on the big one.” Varric chimed in as Cassandra helped one of the soldiers to stand.

“Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra.” The soldier, presumably the lieutenant, said gratefully, “I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

“Thank our prisoner, lieutenant. He insisted we come this way.” They both looked to Anders who blinked back at them, unsure what to say.

“The prisoner?” the lieutenant seemed surprised, “Then you…?”

Anders cleared his throat, “I’m happy we were able to get here in time.”

“You have my sincere gratitude.” She saluted him in the traditional Ferelden manner.

It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he noticed the wide gash on her forearm with a frown and gestured to it, “May I?”

She looked at it, then back to him with a frown, “Are you sure that’s wise?”

His brows lowered in confusion until Varric tapped him on the elbow and drew his attention to his exposed wrists. Faint, pale lines were beginning to show on his skin in a fractured lightning pattern. It almost looked like the lines that appeared when Justice took control, but these marks were white and didn’t glow. A warning for mana exhaustion even as they very slowly faded while his mana naturally replenished in their rest.

“Oh.” he said, intelligently.

“I appreciate the offer but I will survive.” The lieutenant responded resolutely.

“The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment.” Cassandra advised, “Go while you still can.”

“At once.” She turned to her fellow remaining soldiers, “Quickly, let’s move!” And they began to march towards the mine back to the forward camp.

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well.” Solas added.

Cassandra nodded to him, “Let’s hurry before that changes.”

The way forward was indeed clear of demons. Well… mostly.

Anders was beginning to think that ladders fell into that category by now. At least these ones he could just slide down. He stumbled at the bottom of the last ladder but Varric caught him before he could fall on his ass in the snow.

“So holes in the Fade don’t just accidentally happen, right?” the dwarf asked, drawing attention away from the incident.

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible.” Solas conceded.

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

Subtle, Varric…

Anders didn’t miss how all eyes glanced in his direction.

“That  _ is  _ true.” Solas continued.

“We will consider how this happened once the immediate danger is passed.” Cassandra blessedly stopped the conversation.

As they turned a bend, following stone steps, Anders had to slow his pace as he took in the sight. The Temple of Sacred Ashes was gone. In its place was a crater surrounded by giant, glowing, green stalagmites and the ground around them was covered in scorch marks and littered with corpses burnt and petrified. The air here was much colder and he shivered, pointedly keeping his eyes off of the bodies. He probably knew some of these people. Now they were dead.

Cassandra led them around the stalagmites towards an open area.

She paused and gestured to an outcropping of stonework. “That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.” She said, melancholic, “They say it seemed a woman pushed you out but the rift closed on her. None of the soldiers could identify her.”

“I have some ideas.” Varric muttered under his breath.

Anders bit his lip and shivered again.

Some of the stonework was still standing and allowed entry into the temple past the stalagmites. Familiarity struck him and he looked down at the body of a templar in front of the entrance.

“Something on your mind, Blondie?” Varric asked.

“This is the guard I put to sleep. I’m sure of it.”

“You came this way?” Cassandra confirmed, “Perhaps more of your memory will return in the temple. Come.” She all but dragged him through the archway and around the corner to a wide open area, clearly the epicenter of the blast.

The Breach was now impossible to ignore and he was scared if he got too close, it would pull him in and he would get lost in it. It was like the Fade was flayed open and his body hummed with it. Justice was drawn to it. It snapped and cracked and groaned and growled and Anders never felt so small.

“The Breach is a long way up.” Varric observed as they came upon a railing that overlooked the pit of what probably used to be the main chamber of the temple.

“You’re here!” came a familiar voice from behind them, “Thank the Maker.”

Anders didn’t even turn to look at her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the thing roiling and swirling in front of them. This was a dangerous place for mages. Especially him.

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Cassandra instructed before stepping in front of Anders to get his attention, “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Anders pursed his lips, “I’m not sure how to even start getting up to that thing.”

“No. This rift was the first and it is the key.” Solas said so quietly it almost seemed he was speaking to himself, “Seal it and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Then let’s find a way down.” Cassandra agreed, already turning around to look, “And be careful.”

There seemed to be a path created by debris and more grotesque stalagmites.

_ Now is the hour of our victory _ , came a deep and unsettlingly familiar voice that echoed around the temple,  _ Bring forth the sacrifice _ .

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked, spooked.

“At a guess,” Solas began, “The person who created the Breach.”

They continued, climbing over fallen columns and turning around a toppled wall only to come face to face with honestly the worst thing both Anders and Varric had ever seen.

Towers of glowing, violent red. Pillars of hate and malice. Pure corruption.

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.” Varric stated warily as they walked past it, keeping their distance.

“I see it, Varric.”

“But what’s it doing here?” Anders found himself curious, thankful Varric voiced the question aloud as the words were stuck in his throat.

This was the worst time to be reminded of the Deep Roads.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple. Corrupted it.” Solas suggested.

“Ugh. It’s evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

More pockets of red lyrium popped up and Anders found himself horrified. It sang like the lyrium idol had. All lyrium sang to him ever since he and Justice merged, but red lyrium was different. Darker, twisted, distorted. It warped the song.

At the time when they found the idol, he couldn’t put a finger on why it sounded so familiar. Justice had been so vigilant, he’d not had as many nightmares to remind him, but with what he had been hearing before this all happened, it was fresh in his mind.

He was hearing darkspawn. He was hearing the  _ taint _ . This lyrium was  _ blighted _ . Which meant lyrium was  _ alive _ .

_ What the fuck? _

A familiar growl; a darkspawn growl echoed through his head and he jumped with a gasp, gripping his staff in defense. But no darkspawn came. His pulse, however, remained elevated.

_ Keep the sacrifice still _ , that voice echoed again. Why was it so familiar?

He caught up to the others who had moved on ahead, anxious to get as far away from the red stuff as possible.

_ Someone! Help me! _ , came an Orlesian voice just as distorted and disembodied. This one was less familiar.

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice.” Cassandra breathed in surprise.

They reached a small cliff that they had to jump down to reach the center of the blast where the Breach churned and boiled, waiting for them.

Anders felt himself drawn, stopping closer to the tear in the Fade, reality flayed open. His mark reacted with the proximity and he winced as he looked down at it crackling and snapping in time with the Breach itself.

Then, bizarrely, his own voice echoed throughout the temple,  _ What’s going on here? _

“That was your voice.” Cassandra pointed out as if they hadn’t all just heard it, “Most Holy called out to you but-”

The rift suddenly let out an unstable groan, glowing brighter until they had to shield their eyes. But the Fade holds memories and the remnants of what happened were leaking through.

There was no escaping that.

_ It was like stepping into a foggy dream where reality couldn’t quite seem to solidify enough to make sense. Bits and pieces of memory formed a scene but too much was omitted to get the clear picture. _

_ He looked through his own eyes, a familiar and comforting presence by his side despite his anxiety. A glance and he saw green eyes smiling at him reassuringly, red hair tucked beneath the hood of a cloak. Her hand was in his and she squeezed it. _

_ Hawke… _

_ They turned a corner together when a sudden feeling of wrong slammed into him. A dark ripple disturbed the Fade in a room nearby and the voices he’d been hearing and trying to ignore, the incessant and demanding drum got louder and louder. _

_ A migraine twinged its start behind his eyes but he started to follow the beat. _

_ Cautious step… _

_ Step… _

_ Step… _

_ Like walking towards death. A slow procession. _

_ Then-  _

_ “Someone! Help me!” _

_ His trance broke and he burst through two heavy, wooden doors. He didn’t notice the angry, blue glow emanating from beneath his cloak. _

_ Instead he saw a presumably very important Chantry figure being suspended by blood magic. _

_ “What’s going on here?” He demanded, voice distorted by Justice. _

_ “Run while you can! Warn them!” The woman yelled at him. _

_ “We have an intruder.” That familiar voice noted, almost bored, but he couldn’t place the name. _

_ Then a shadow descended over him. A shadow he could never forget. _

_ Despair flooded through him at the realization. Horror. Terror. Everything at once. His heart raced and the song came back full force, drums berating as wildly as his pulse and a thousand times as loud. _

_ “Bend to me, Warden.” came the command and he almost did. _

_ Until a hand grabbed his arm and he heard Hawke scream his name. _

_ “Anders!” _

The memory ended as quickly as it began, nearly seeming to snap his neck as he was sucked out of it.

Anders fell to his knees and retched, upending what little contents were in his stomach.

Behind him, Cassandra was incensed, “You  _ were  _ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she-” She moved in front of him and forced him up by his shoulders, “Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

His head was spinning but he managed to croak out one word, “Corypheus.”

“Oh shit.” The was Varric’s voice but the sentiment echoed on Cassandra’s face as she let him go to take a step back in shock.

“Echoes of what happened here.” Solas’ calm was unsurprising but Anders still found it a bit annoying, “The Fade bleeds into this place.”

“Here, Blondie.” Varric murmured from beside him, offering a flask of something that smelled alcoholic.

Anders accepted it gratefully to wash out the taste of bile in his mouth as he caught his breath.

Cassandra walked over to Solas urgently as the elf continued to speak, “This rift is not sealed but it  _ is _ closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that, with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Cassandra nodded and raised her voice to the soldiers Leliana had stationed around the temple, “That means demons. Stand ready.”

Anders shakily got to his feet but his eyes narrowed at the other mage. “Your educated guesses are really starting to creep me out.” he said, slightly winded.

The elf only gave him a solemn stare in return.

He lifted his hands in defeat, “Alright fine. But if demon summoning gets put on my list of charges for trial, I am going to be bloody furious.”

Taking a deep breath, he shook out his marked hand as it tingled almost like it was excited. He waited for Cassandra’s nod of approval before he sighed, gave one final look to the mark and extended his hand.

The force of the attachment to this rift nearly took his arm off and he struggled to maintain the connection with as high up as it was. This time, instead of threading the suture closed, he used the needle to undo the natural suture that held the rift shut by a single thread. As soon as it was loose, it snapped open and he suffered yet another bout of whiplash from the force.

The rift wasted no time spitting out the biggest Pride demon he’d ever seen and he scrambled to get far enough distance away to be effective and out of range as the fight began.

Unfortunately, the demon took exception to that and smacked him with a whip of electricity that stunned him a moment and stole his breath as it slammed him into a nearby wall.

The other soldiers attacked and gained the creature’s attention so he was able to recover but just barely.

He alternated his time between healing everyone he could and trying to weaken the creature’s defenses but cutting off its connection to the rift. As long as the demon was around, the rift couldn’t be closed but it could be snapped shut briefly.

Somewhere between the mass of healing spells and the one flashfire spell he cast, his mana reserves reached critical. He was still able to cast but he was running on empty. Each spell took a little more out of him each time and when he glanced down at his arms, he found them pale and scored with lightning lines of scars far brighter than what they had been before.

Any more and he’d probably have to start using his own soul as a replacement.

Thankfully, the demon fell and the rift suspended in waiting, either for him to close it or for another demon to come through. He wasn’t sure which. He didn’t want to find out.

He thrust his makr towards the thing and it latched on.

This one was big and the stitches it needed were massive. He managed to hold the connection steady and just as he yanked the needle back and pulled the thread, sealing it shut, it burst, sending a ripple up the column and into the hole in the sky.

For a moment, it seemed nothing had happened, but then the tear in the veil lost integrity and the column collapsed, bathing them all in blinding, white light.

For Anders, beaten, physically and emotionally exhausted, it felt like falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Love to hear your thoughts :)
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kaienne_pepper)  
> or on [Tumblr](https://kaiperion.tumblr.com/)


	3. No Rest In This World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the title song here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tb0CwlQW0M)

“You’re doing it again.”

Anders blinked at Branwyn’s voice and he looked down to find her laying on his chest, chin resting on the back of her hands. They were laying in bed, the soft crackle of the fire casting mellow shadows and amber beams throughout the room and over their bodies. It reflected off the emerald of her eyes, making them shine like gemstones.

“Doing what?” he asked innocently.

“Thinking too hard. I can hear you from here.”

He smiled and tapped her nose with his index finger, secretly delighting in the way it made her nose scrunch, “Sorry, love.”

“You’ll wake Liam being that loud.”

“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.” He picked up a strand of her auburn hair to twirl idly through his fingers, the long tresses untied for once and cascading to one side and across her shoulder.

She hummed at that, tilting her head to the side, “What are you thinking about anyway?”

He hesitated. What _had_ he been thinking about? “I… can’t remember.”

“Must not have been too important then.”

He shrugged, “I can focus on something better.”

Her grin was almost wicked, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she leaned up towards him, their mouths a breath apart, “Oh? And what’s that?”

He chuckled and moved his finger under her chin to kiss her gently. “I have a little bird demanding my attention.” he murmured against her lips.

“Mmm. Sounds needy.”

“Irredeemably.”

She laughed and kissed him again. “It’s a shame we can’t spend longer here.” A sigh escaped her as she tucked her face into his neck, “Damn templars.”

“It would be nice to indulge in the dream a little longer.” he agreed, squeezing her.

A hum of agreement met him and she kissed the lobe of his ear, “Unfortunately we all have to _ẇ̷̭̼̽ạ̷̈̋k̴̡̠̀̈́e̵̙̺̓ ̷̮̂ù̶̻͈p̸̤̜͑_ eventually.”

He jerked as part of her sentence sounded distorted and screeched, pitched so high it seemed to physically lance through him. “What did you say?” He asked, suddenly wary, anxiety spiking, pulse quickening.

“I said you have to-”

_Wake up._

̵̛̥͛̍͊̒͛ ̵̝̺̋̈̈ ̷͕̝͙͇̫̣ ̶̢̬̠̲̞͍̍ ̵̙̼̺͊̕ͅ ̶̛̠̫̺͍̫̿̄͊ ̷̤̣̮͒͠ ̵̗̮̤̘̹͆͗̔̊͐͑ ̶̨̰̽̏ͅ ̶̧̞͕͈̭̉̏̈́́̉̽͝ ̸̡͍̈́ ̵͓̭̿̏ ̴̦̗̗̙̓͋̆̀͘ ̷͔͚̜͔̾̕ ̵̱̹͇̥̿̾͛͊̔̀͘ͅ ̷͖̤͕̈́̔̔̂̎̇͜ ̵̛̺̻̃̃̈́̋̕͝ ̵̨͙̳̑̀̇̾ ̴̙̩͔̟͎̯̋̍͊̾͑͑ ̷̨͙͉͉̬̘̬͂̉̌̊̓ ̸͖̼̗̱̩̇͛͜ ̴̮̼̯̠̥̪̙̉̔ ̴̣̗̊̽̚ ̴̡͇̝̹̤̥̭͛̈́̂͑ ̸̰͖͇͑̐ͅ ̸̭̰̳̯̠͉̀̆̒͋͒͊͘ ̴̛̭̋̑́̀́ ̴̭̫̏͗ ̵͎̙̆̈́̓͑͘ ̷̧̼̺̒͆̃̉ ̸̻͔̐̂̈́̾ ̶̡̹̟͉̜̖͛̔̚̕͜ ̷̲͙͙̤̯̪̤͑͌̑̄ ̸̲͕̳̳͎̤̟̚ ̶̡͙̫̖̥̦͍̋ ̵̧̲͛̂̕ ̸̧̥̖͙͒͋͑̍͋̔̽ ̸̨̯̜͈̗̽͝͝ ̷̻̦͊̽̃̀̾͑̔ ̶͙̋͠ ̵̛̲̲͔̭̟̓͐͑̔͘͝ ̸̡̭͎̗̺̣̘̈́͋̄ ̸͖̟̦͎̰͈̣̚ ̶͚͔̎̄̊́̎ ̵͖̘͓͑̽͋͝ͅ ̸̳̖͂̌̉̌ ̶̧̢̘̠̗̬͛̃͛ ̶̱͈̻̭͈̯͓̅͌̇ ̸͚̣̿̃̐̓ ̶̻̟̹͗̂̈ ̸̳͙̙͙͂́̈́̚ ̴̡̯͚͂͜ ̴̮̞̄̑̏͊ ̸̜̽͐̓̌͂̊ ̵̱̟̹̫̪̟͔̓̽ ̸̣͉̬̠̺̥̰́̄̎͐̈́ ̸̣̲͂̔͗͝͝ ̶͍͎̙̝̩ ̸̯͉̜̿̐͒̌̍͑ ̶̛̟̬̩́͑̌͐̉ ̶͈̮̬̗̟̾̀̅ ̵̋̑͑͝ͅ ̶̫̼͙͆͛ ̶͙̿͂͛͠ ̶̢̡̛̳̙̰͊͒ͅ ̴̲͊̉̈́͋͝ ̶͉̗̍͂͒̚̚̚ ̶̨̭̗͔̝͂͑̃̃̀ͅ ̴̙̠̝̹͈̎̄̆͘͜͝ ̴̮̽̓̈̇̇̑ ̶̟̼̻̰͛ ̵̛̣̱̻̦̀̊̈͛̚ ̷͈̖̫̼̄̈̈́̇̔̔ ̸̡̳͕̬̘̄̾̅̐̊̿̓ ̸̨̨̒͆̇̾̐̋̕ ̸̢̬̭̬͠ ̵̦̳̩͊̔̀͊͝ ̴̫̬͕̗̈́ ̸̛̭̺͒̉̀̉̌͠ ̵̬͂̃̈̃̚ ̵̭̻͙̳̀̀͊̓̄͝͝ ̸̢̠̬̪͔̮̖̔̄ ̸̺̣̀ ̵̱̯̓̉̀̌̎̎ ̴̮͉̽͋͝͝ ̶̡̩͎̩͋ ̶͍̼̔̊̕͝ ̴̛̫͖̲̩̈́͌̐͜ ̷̡͕̺̻͙̝̓ͅ ̴̧̬̂̑̈́̂͒͘ ̸̘͗͠ ̴̒ͅ ̷̝̰̆̈́̃͗̉͘ ̴̨̨͚̱͚̦͗͊ ̴̨̔͌̈́͐̅̐ͅ ̴̣͕̞͂̓ ̵͕̜̳̑̊ͅ ̵̻̀ ̸̦͉͗̾̽ ̷̩̫̓̽͂͠͝ ̸̜̙̺͍̍̂̌̓͝ ̸̧̠͙̝̱̈́̃̎̉̉̉ ̴̱̮͉̥̑̋͐̆ ̴͕̻̜͕̻̻̻͘͝ ̶̲̘̙̑̃ͅ ̴̰͈̩̝̩̓̀͑̾̒̏͘ ̴̫̹̰̽̔͊͐͘̚͝ ̴̗̱̮̓̏ ̵̨͚̦̝̜͙̱͗ ̵̣̩͙̦͖̃̒̅̂̌̚ ̴̱̅̌̓͒̇̒̽ ̸̧̛̟̖̜̖͙̎̋̈́ ̵̙̹͈̺̰͍̇͐͆̓̆̌ ̸̨̧̪̫̤͎̈́̀͗̄̍̈́̓ ̵̘̻͋̆̌̃͝ͅ ̴̡̡͓̤̹̓̓ͅ ̶̤̄ ̸̗̬̹͘ͅ ̶̠͈̪̌ ̴̧͕̪̫͉̠̊͋̌̃̏̈̏ ̵͍̖͙̖̇̓̈́͘͝ ̶̧̡̜̳̻̪̉ ̴̬͙͂͋̓̿ ̷̧̟̰̰̯̤̈́͂̐͠ ̴͖͖̗̹̗̀ ̵͍̣̝̠͕̜͓̈̍̕ ̴̣̺̙̱̣̎ͅͅ ̶̡̤̦̻̏̉͗̑́̈ ̴͎̬͚̟̠̗̕ ̴̳͛̽̌͝ ̷̧͕͚̞̰͛̉̚ ̷̹̜͉͙̻͛̈́̚ ̶̱̺͚̲͙̻̃́̅̕ ̶̢̢̨̳̗̼͚͋́̄̈ ̴̫͇͔̱̞͇͐̒͗ ̵̛̩̭́ ̸̧̢͓̭̱̖͝ ̴̪̙̒ ̵̩̰̍ ̷̧͎͍̺̯͎͐ ̸̛̬̔̒̐͘͝͝ ̵͖̝̦̜͑̀͌̄͝͝ ̴̢̧̼̰̘̃͗̔͋̕͠ ̸̨̟͓͙̳̿͋ ̸͚̼̗̳̗͌͋ ̶̳̯̎̾ ̴̡͈͖̐͐̄͜ ̵̟͚͓͇̫̏͋̍ ̶̞̑́͋͗̈́͝ͅ ̴̪͔̠̇̎̓̈͛̓ ̴̛̥̖̾̿͒̀͜ ̵̺̪̳̹̻̟̓

Anders jerked awake to a splitting headache and a room far too bright. The sun was going to blind him, bloody demon orb.

He turned away from the offending light and covered his face with his hands, the events from before flooding back with a viscous form. He could call on them, remember them, but they were surrounded in a liquid haze, the details muddled.

His mouth was uncomfortably dry and the taste of elfroot stuck to his tongue. When he pulled his hands away from his face, he was able to see that the lines on his arms from mana exhaustion were gone and someone had changed him into a strangely simple yet elegant set of finery.

Apparently Orlesians preferred their prisoners to be dressed up as well.

As he rolled onto his back, he sighed. Truth be told, he didn’t even know if they had succeeded in their goal to seal the Breach. The sharp taste of magic was still all around, the veil still painfully thin, but the mark on his hand didn’t hurt anymore.

A scratching came from the far corner of his room and he looked over to see a caged raven kicking playfully at the nesting beneath its talons. The room itself was downright cozy. Much more than he would expect a criminal to receive. By all rights, he should have woken up in chains in the dungeons or crammed into a tent with refugees at the very least.

Branwyn once talked about finding a place to settle down once things cooled off. This was the kind of place he thought she might have imagined.

A sting came to his eyes and his chest tightened at the reminder of his love. She was gone now. No more fanciful imaginings of a normal life anymore.

_Your fault…_

He sucked in a shaky breath. If he hadn’t opened his bloody mouth about speaking to the Divine, she wouldn’t have felt the impulse to jump headlong into it. She’d still be-

A sharp gasp and the shattering of glass as something fell to the floor startled him into sitting.

He blinked and met the wide eyes of a young, elven woman who had just dropped a box of what appeared to be potions and herbs.

“Oh!” There was a tremble to her voice that shot a thrill of trepidation through him. She seemed… scared of him? “I didn’t know you were awake, I-I swear.”

Anxiety gripped him. What had he done? Had Justice gone on a rampage while he was unconscious? “Why are you frightened? What happened?” he pleaded.

He watched her wring her hands nervously, “That’s wrong, isn’t it? I-I said the wrong thing.”

Confused, his brow furrowed, “I don’t… think so.”

The elf fell to her knees before him and he leaned away in discomfort at the display.

_Okay, not used to that and never going to be…_

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” She was treating him like nobility. Now he understood. Someone here was certainly mistreating the servants. Now. Of all times.

A blue tint shaded his vision lightly. “You might have the wrong room.” he said, “I’m no one special. You don’t have to do that.”

He watched as the liquid from the broken potion bottles soaked into her leggings but she still remained knelt in front of him, “I do as I’m instructed.”

Right. Should have expected that. “Where am I?”

“You’re back in Haven, my lord.”

“Anders is fine.” he insisted sharply.

She continued, “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

Oh. She was in the right place after all. Strange.

_Three days? Maker…_

He stared down at his hand a moment, the mark swirling with green in a thin line across his palm as he contemplated the rest of her words.

_They say you saved us…_

_Saved…_

_What?_

“So you’re saying…” He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, “they’re happy with me?” Everyone had been upset with him for so long with few exceptions. The idea was nerve wracking despite its positive connotation.

“I’m only saying what I heard. I didn’t mean anything by it.” She stood then and began to back towards the door, wringing her hands again. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’.”

He stood shakily, nearly falling over as dizziness washed through him at the movement, “And where is she?” He hoped not far.

“In the Chantry,” came the reply, “with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once’ she said!” And she ran out of the room, leaving him standing there warily.

What on Andraste’s flaming ass was going on?

He glanced around again, looking for some kind of clue or sign.

No answer jumped out at him but what _did_ was a familiar staff leaning against a desk across the room. An excited gasp escaped him as he rushed over to it, carefully grabbing the polished beechwood grip wrapped in infused vyrantium samite. It hummed with energy as though greeting him, the focusing crystal glowing faintly. It looked and felt the same as when he lost it, Branwyn’s hawk feathers still neatly tied beneath the crystal’s setting from the day she gave it to him.

He lightly ran a finger over the feathers, a frown forming, emotion choking him to the point he had to set the stave down.

A deep breath and he saw his coat and feathers resting over the back of the chair waiting for him. The fabric was freshly cleaned and the feathers carefully laid in some semblance of order. A breeze blew in through the window and he shivered, hurrying to don the coat quickly.

As he smoothed the fabric down and tightened the buckles, slipping his arms into the shawl that held his feathers, he turned his head towards the raven who watched him with interest.

He gestured to himself, addressing the bird, “Well? What do you think?”

It cocked its head and gave a soft gurgling sound, biting lightly at one of the bars of its cage.

“I’ll take that as something positive.”

It snapped its beak in response.

Sighing, he found a couple more things on the desk, not the least of which was the water which he drank down greedily to sate his parched throat. Nest to that, though, were three sheets of parchment. He read the first.

> _Patient Observations_
> 
> _Vain hope: someone better at this than me takes over before the survivor expires. Notes in case._
> 
> _-Day One-_
> 
> _Clammy. Shallow breathing. Pulse over-fast. Not responsive. Pupils dilated._
> 
> _Mage says his scarring “mark” is thrumming with unknown magic. Wish we could station a templar in here, just in case._

Someone had been trying to tend to him while he was unconscious it seemed. Someone who wasn’t a healer by trade. Poor sod.

At least he hadn’t woken up to a templar in the room with him. No doubt, he wouldn’t have woken up at all in that case.

He moved on to the next piece of parchment.

> _-Day Two-_
> 
> _Pulse normal, breathing normal. Still unresponsive; careful drop-feed of prep. Elfroot extract to hasten his recovery._
> 
> _A lot of thrashing. Mutters about too many eyes. Something about “the grey.”_
> 
> _Encouraging?_

He must have been having Calling nightmares. He remembered hearing the Calling before the Conclave; remembered trying to ignore it but silently despairing at the fact it had come so soon. Liam wasn’t even five yet.

Now he heard nothing. Maybe the mark cancelled it out?

At any rate, at least this note explained why he woke up with his mouth drier than his namesake. His healer was most likely an alchemist.

He could worry about the silenced Calling later. He’d be damned if he worried about it now.

Next parchment.

> _-Day Three-_
> 
> _Less thrashing. Some response to stimulus. Vitals seem solid._
> 
> _Two attempts so far by locals to break into the Chantry to kill my patient._
> 
> _Not surprising given his past. Still, all this work to save his life, and will they just execute him?_
> 
> _Will inform Lady Cassandra I expect him to wake before the morn._

Anders snorted mirthlessly. Even unconscious he was still giving the Chantry trouble.

He set the papers down with a sigh before grabbing his staff once again and holding the familiar item close. Speaking of the Chantry, it was probably time to go face the music before the Seeker came looking for him. After pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders and bracing for the biting Haven air, he stepped outside of the cabin.

And was greeted by dozens of people gathered around all trying to get a look at him. He shrank inward at all the eyes but none that he could see were angry. In fact, they seemed almost… awestruck? Some had their heads bowed in prayers. Others were saluting him, particularly the dozen or so soldiers that kept the group off of the path like guards.

If he was uncomfortable before with the servant girl, he was crawling in his skin now. Especially with the Breach as a backdrop.

He took tentative steps towards the group, following the designated path and looked warily at all the people. He recognized some of them as those who spit on him when Cassandra had led him through before. Clearly this was some kind of trick… right?

He wished Varric was here to make him a little more at ease with his banter but the dwarf was nowhere to be seen.

He made his way towards the Chantry and was met with more bowed heads and salutes. Almost as if in worship. Something was seriously wrong here.

At least inside the Chantry was blessedly empty. His footsteps echoed as he walked towards muffled voices that became clearer the closer he came to the door.

“Have you gone completely mad?” A voice he recognized as Chancellor Roderick asked incredulously, “He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe he is guilty.” he paused in surprise at Cassandra’s words. “Not in this.”

“The prisoner failed, Seeker.” Roderick pressed, “The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way.”

“I do not believe that.”

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.” The disgust and annoyance in Cassandra’s voice was palpable and for a moment, Anders considered coming back another time.

_‘At once’ she said._

He shook his head and pursed his lips.

Time to face the music, he assumed. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped one food into the room only to be met with two templars flanking him.

With a gasp, he threw himself the opposite direction he should go; directly into the one-way room and against the edge of the large table in a panic, back turned on everyone but the threat. Heart racing, breaths frantic, adrenaline pumping, he didn’t realize they weren’t moving towards him. He only braced himself for that inevitable smite and the cold clamp of irons, eyes shut tightly.

He jumped when a gentle hand touched his shoulder and his eyes snapped open to find Leliana staring at him with empathy. She didn’t speak but she did make a gesture towards the templars so he could realize they hadn’t moved to apprehend or kill him.

He calmed then, but only slightly, sheepishly half-turning away from them but unwilling to put them entirely behind him.

“Chain him.” Roderick demanded, “I want him prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

Cassandra was leaned over the table but stood straight as she spoke to the templars, “Disregard that. And leave us.”

Clearly her authority superseded Roderick’s and the templars simply saluted and walked out, allowing Anders to relax fully.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” the Chancellor growled, anger bushing his brow.

“The Breach is stable but it is still a threat. I will _not_ ignore it.”

Anders’ frowned, leaning on his staff as his adrenaline rush calmed and left him tired, “What we did wasn’t enough? You still need my help?”

“” _You_ have done plenty. Your actions will be taken into account but the new Divine.” Roderick stated, “Perhaps she may only try you for your transgressions in Kirkwall.”

“Have a care, Chancellor.” Cassandra groused, “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

“Corypheus.” Anders remembered, shuddering.

“We know next to nothing about Corypheus and anyone who does is beyond our reach except for him.” Leliana stepped around the table, gesturing in Anders’ direction, “But we do know he could not have gotten inside the temple without help. _Someone_ assisted him from within. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others- or have allies who yet live.”

Her accusation clear, Roderick took a step back in surprise, “ _I_ am a _suspect_?”

“You. And many others.”

“But _not_ the prisoner?”

Cassandra huffed in frustration, “I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to him for help.”

“So his survival, that _thing_ on his hand, his penchant for destroying our holy institutions- All coincidence?”

“Let us leave the past in the past and discuss only recent events. I will call this as I see it.”

Roderick folded his arms, “If not coincidence, then what?”

“Providence. The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour.”

Anders almost fell over at that declaration, “You can’t honestly think I’m any kind of ‘chosen one’.”

She shot him an intense stare, “We are all subject to the will of the Maker. Whether we wish it or not.”

“I would consider this more of a punishment than anything.”

“That would be for the Maker to decide. No matter what you are or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

“The Breach remains,” Leliana reminded them again as Cassandra stepped away from the table, “And your mark is still the only hope of closing it.”

“This is _not_ for you to decide.” Roderick snapped.

Suddenly, Cassandra stepped back to the table and slammed a large book down onto the surface, “You know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine granting us the authority to act.” She stood to her tallest height and proclaimed, “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Then she crowded the Chancellor, pointing in his face as she continued, “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval.”

Anders almost felt bad for Roderick as he looked between them all in disbelief before quietly storming out.

Cassandra sighed in relief as he left, running a hand through her stopped hair in frustration as Leliana regarded the massive book with reverence.

“This is the Divine’s directive.” She said softly, “Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.” She looked up at Cassandra, then Anders, “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no number, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice.” Cassandra conceded looking to Anders as well, “We must act now. With you at our side.”

Anders blinked at them, “I’m sorry… What is ‘the Inquisition of old’ exactly?”

“It preceded the Chantry: People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the templar order but the templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.”

“Wait, back up a moment.” Anders’ head was spinning with this new information, “You want _me_ to be part of an organization that founded the templars and their principles? _Me_? The ‘evil apostate’ who blew up a Chantry?”

“You are already involved. Its mark is upon you.”

He hesitated, looking down at the mark casting a green glow across the table. He pursed his lips in contemplation. This wasn’t what he had in mind once he had done his part. Apparently he wasn’t done yet. “What if I refuse?” he asked carefully. This was, after all, fucking insane.

“You can go if you wish.” Leliana said sadly.

“You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty.” Cassandra advised him nonchalantly, “The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us.”

“We can also help _you_.” Leliana added knowingly. Clearly she knew more than she let on which meant a world of bad things for him.

“It will not be easy if you stay.” Cassandra admitted, “But you cannot pretend this has not changed you.”

A flicker of blue crackled over Anders’ skin and he knew his next thoughts were influenced.

_We must fix what has happened here. For him._

He sighed as it faded and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “When I woke up, I certainly didn’t picture this outcome.”

“Neither did we.” Leliana acknowledged.

“Help us fix this.” Cassandra implored, offering him her hand as though they were shaking on a business arrangement and not the fate of the entire world, “Before it’s too late.”

He stared at her hand as though it were a viper ready to strike, then rested his forehead against his staff. “Before I agree,” he began, “I want a guarantee.”

Both of them exchanged a glance, brows raised.

“A guarantee of what?” Cassandra asked.

“Hawke’s twin brother. His name is Cian. He’s travelling with two others. I want them found and brought here. For protection.”

Cassandra looked to Leliana who waved a dismissive hand at the stipulation. “A simple request.” she stated, “It will be done.”

Relief flooded through him at her answer and he seemed to relax somewhat. He swallowed as he reached for Cassandra’s hand and shook it.

“Alright. Tell me what to do.”


	4. Or Beyond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the title song here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tb0CwlQW0M)
> 
> Been a stressful couple months!!!!!!

Cassandra had given him several things to consider doing before deciding on where to place himself. First of which was familiarizing himself with their proprietors.

After meeting the quartermaster and the smith, Anders found himself inside the apothecary, feeling envious about a meager potion set up. It was more than he had in Kirkwall. A short conversation with the alchemist confirmed that this was the man who had been tasked with making sure he lived.

Anders was sure to offer his thanks to the understandably stressed and stand-offish man before stepping back out into the brisk Haven air and running into Solas almost literally.

The elf nodded in greeting, “The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.”

Anders felt a frown slip onto his face, “I’ve no interest in being a hero. All I want is to find a way to seal this Breach.”

A smirk danced behind Solas’ eyes but didn’t show on his face, “Pragmatic. But ultimately irrelevant.” He stepped away to stare distantly as he spoke. Sometimes Anders felt that Solas was much more ancient than he seemed. There was a timelessness about him that he couldn’t place. But then they hadn’t been acquainted very long. “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” he turned back to look Anders in the eyes, “Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

Anders felt a studious wonder envelop him at Solas’ words as well as a curiosity that he wasn’t quite sure was his own, “I admit I don’t have much knowledge of Dreamers and they’re abilities. I never got to ask the boy in Kirkwall.”

Solas nodded, “Dreamers are rare and not well documented. Not even in the memories of the Fade. Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits, as you know.” They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

“I imagine you find some interesting things in there… alongside all the demons.”

“Exactly. It is occasionally dangerous, yes. But more often it’s just sad to see what has been lost. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything.”

Anders hummed, remembering back to a time that felt decades ago. His time in the Wardens with the Hero of Ferelden. Where _was_ Amell these days?

“I had a friend in the Grey Wardens. The Hero of Ferelden actually.” he found himself saying, “She used to tell me that everything has power as long as it’s remembered. I think she would tell you that your trips to the Fade preserve the power those memories hold and that it’s something commendable.”

“The Hero sounds wise indeed.” Solas agreed, “I admit it is hard to tell her personality from the harrowing events I witnessed in the Fade.”

Anders blinked, “You’ve seen Amell in the Fade?”

“Not personally. Just an echo of the Battle at Ostagar and the Assault on Amaranthine.”

“I was there for that one.” Anders felt a twitch inside his mind and placed a hand on his chest to placate the spirit. “We both were. You might have seen us.”

Solas understood, “You will have to tell me your accounts later.” He hesitated, looking out at the few buildings on the path towards the Chantry, soldiers milling about, “I will stay then. At least until the Breach is sealed.”

“Was that in doubt?”

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and, unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s protecting me more than it is delaying the inevitable.” Anders grumbled.

“Either way. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

An understanding snort left Anders chest, “Completely. Unfortunately for now, the giant hole in the sky takes priority. Or perhaps that’s fortunate for us?” he gestured with his staff to indicate the situation as a whole.

“Humor is an excellent armor, as you seem to be well familiar.” Solas gave a hint of genuine mirth and Anders smiled back at him.

“How else do I hide the fact that I’m dying inside?”

A silence fell between them for a moment.

“I hope you find a chance to mourn soon then.” Solas broke it softly, “It is impossible to say what this world will look like when we are done fighting for it. You may not have another chance. For now, let us hope either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach.”

Anders snorted, “If I never see another templar again, it will be too soon.”

“That choice may not be so easy as you think.” and he didn’t give Anders a chance at rebuttal before walking away slowly.

Anders sighed and ran a hand across his neck before deciding to try and find Varric. If nothing else, the dwarf could calm his nerves a little.

It didn’t take much searching. Varric had tucked up to the campfire at the top of the steps of Haven. He was knelt in front of it, stoking the embers, when Anders tentatively walked up.

The dwarf gave him a concerned once-over. “So now that Cassandra is out of earshot, are you holding up alright?”

“Did you want a serious answer or is the lie I made up for the sake of others adequate enough?”

Varric sighed and nodded, “Thought so.” he stood, clapping his hands together as though dusting them off, “I can imagine it’s been quite a ride. I mean you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

Anders snorted, “None of this shit should have happened.”

“You can say that again.” Varric turned to look forlornly at the hole in the sky, pursing his lips, “For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

Nodding, Anders gripped his staff, “I should have died in there. She wouldn’t let me.” He exhaled a breath full of sorrow and sat down in front of the fire, staring into it like he could find all of life’s answers in flame alone. “I’m still not sure I believe any of this is really happening. Maybe I really am dead and this is the Void for me.”

“It’s not all about you, Blondie.” Varric scowled and Anders looked at him in surprise before ducking his head in shame. He was right. People were suffering and dying out there. His problems were a drop in a sea of shit.

“If this is just the Maker winding us up, I hope there’s a damn good punchline coming.”

“Yeah.” The mage set his staff over his lap and gently fingered the hawk feathers adorning it.

He was surprised to see Varric sit down beside him, “We’re going to need a miracle to get out of this one, Blondie.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, both remembering the past; remembering Hawke. Her charismatic nature and fierce overprotectiveness. Always putting the well-being of others before herself. Vigilantly guarding her mage siblings from templar eyes until it was unavoidable in Bethany’s case. Taking a sword through the gut from the Arishok and still coming out the victor in the duel. Fighting to protect the mages from being eradicated by a madwoman with a red lyrium sword.

Anders couldn’t stop the tears running saline trails down his cheeks, but at least he wasn’t sobbing uncontrollably this time. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes as he felt Varric’s hand pat his back in consolation.

“Can I ask you something?” the dwarf began, only continuing when Anders inclined his head with permission, “Why the Conclave? Of all places?”

The mage chewed on his answer a moment. “Initially it hadn’t been the Conclave. My idle musing over dinner one night became an opportunity when the Conclave was announced. I was… extremely apprehensive about it, seeing the damage the templars had done so far, but I couldn’t disagree when Hawke pointed out that it would be the best chance to get me in amongst all the mages.” He sighed, “My instincts were telling me to run. But I could never say no to her. I should have listened to them.”

Varric waved a hand dismissively, “You know as well as I do that the Hawkes will do anything they put their minds to. With or without approval.”

Anders chuckled, “That’s true.” He toyed with the feathers again, “You know, I was teaching her how to use her Fade sensitivity for little things here and there. Some light telekinesis. She struggled at first but with Cian helping, she was moving things around slowly but surely. But the one thing she demanded to try was summoning a shield. Wielding one was too much, oh no, not with her greatsword. But a _magical_ shield she could call at will?” He stared into the fire, remembering their last training session, “No matter how many nosebleeds she gave herself, she kept pushing and pushing. Nothing I said could sway her.”

“Did she get it eventually?” Varric asked, only mildly curious.

“She managed a small one for a flash of a second and then it snapped back on her so hard I thought her neck snapped.”

“Maker’s breath. And she still insisted?”

“Yes. It was later that I was able to coax out of her that this shield was important to her, not for her own protection, but for everyone else’s.”

Varric shook his head, “That does sound like her.”

Another silence passed between them, and this time, Anders was the one who broke it.

“It’s my fault, you know.” he didn’t see Varric’s sidelong glance but he could feel it, “It was my idea to appeal directly to the Divine. If I hadn’t said anything, she’d still be… You would still have your best friend if I hadn’t opened my mouth to give her ideas.”

Anders felt cold in the wake of Varric’s silence after that statement, but, feeling the dwarf’s hand settle comfortingly on his shoulder, he jumped in surprise.

His voice was somber as he spoke, “It’s not all about you, Blondie.”

Something passed between them. An understanding maybe. A reminder. Perhaps all of those things. Either way, it left Anders feeling lighter than he had been.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely.

Varric gave him a nod and they both continued to stare at the fire, trying to ignore the hole in the sky.

Not long later, Anders found himself in a repurposed building filled with injured. Whatever the building had been before, it was hardly big enough to accommodate the wounded he saw. Several beds lined the walls, a person in each of them, but several more were sitting or laying on the floor. With only the Chantry sisters and the apothecary’s assistants as healers, it was clear to him where he was most needed.

On the bed closest to him, a woman sat cradling her arm. Blood was dried on her forehead and she had clearly been sitting there for a couple days.

Anders set his staff nearby against the wall and rolled up his sleeves before walking over to her with a gentle, he hope comforting, smile. She narrowed her eyes at him, eyeing his staff a moment, but he just gestured to her arm, “May I?” he asked.

She frowned but moved her arm towards him. “They already put a poultice on it to stop infection.” She told him, Orlesian accent thick.

He nodded, “That’s a good start. Let’s see if we can do better.” He could tell it pained her to move the appendage and he gingerly took her wrist to keep it still as he pulled back the bandage. The poultice was well done, but the cut very clearly needed stitches. Or just a healing touch.

He closed his eyes and reached inward with his magic, easily connecting to Justice as his conduit to the Fade and channeling restorative energy. He focused it into the cut and flexed his fingers before beginning to weave the magic through her skin, knitting it closed. He opened his eyes to watch his progress, and when he was done, he sent one more pulse of energy through the area to numb any lingering discomfort.

He was removing the now unnecessary poultice bandages from her arm when he caught her eyes and found them wide in awe. He paused and blinked.

“You’re him.” she breathed, “The one who saved us.”

His expression twisted as though he’d sucked a lemon as he took in her reverence, “I tried to anyway.” He stood to examine the wound on her head but found only a small cut which he quickly healed. Head wounds bled so much.

“I thank you, my lord.” she said gratefully.

“Anders is fine.”

She blushed, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly…”

“The sooner you accept that the people will call you what they want, the easier things will become.” A new voice announced softly.

He turned towards it and met a kindly, older Chantry mother who had apparently been watching him work, “We cannot, after all, reject the plans the Maker has set in motion for us.”

Anders pursed his lips but didn’t respond to her. Instead, he checked his patient over once more before stepping back, “You should be good now. The cut on your arm was too old to prevent a scar but some spindleweed salve should help to lighten it.”

The woman nodded gratefully as she stood, “Thank you, my lord.” she said and ducked out before he could say anything about the honorific.

The Chantry Mother chuckled at his disgruntled expression, “Shall I alert Lady Cassandra that you are helping the ill and injured? We certainly could use your help here.”

“I’ll tell her. I’m supposed to meet with her this afternoon.” he moved to the next injured person, a young man with a mangled hand and several scratched from what were probably demons.

“As you wish. Can I supply you with anything?” she asked, almost doting, “Potions? Poultices? Salves?”

He had to admit, having help was a luxury he rarely could enjoy in the Kirkwall clinic and that help was mostly inexperienced. None of the Hawkes were particularly gifted at herbalism.

But the Chantry sisters and assistants took his direction without question, eager to help. He was happy to see that they were able to triage appropriately but their supplies were woefully unorganized. Not a great thing when a few seconds searching for something could mean life or death for a patient. He would have to establish a system.

He dealt with the most dire patients first. Thankfully none were hanging by a thread but infection had set into some wounds despite poultices. That was a killer on it’s own and it was sneaky.

The work kept him busy and his mind helpfully blank of anything outside of healing. The Chantry sisters even provided him with lyrium when he finally started to show signs of mana depletion. It wasn’t much but it was good to know his newly extended well wasn’t infinite.

He didn’t understand their sudden change in heart towards him but he wasn’t about to complain.

Before he knew it, he was cleaning up as best he could and heading to meet Cassandra at the Chantry. Apparently they had put together a sort of advising circle and they were to introduce themselves to him and discuss their plan moving forward.

It still felt strange being so important to people outside his family. One day awake and he was already involved in conversations far higher than he wanted. All because of the stupid mark on his hand.

He was still glowering at it when he stepped into the Chantry, Cassandra flanking him as they walked to the newly-named war room.

“Does it trouble you?” Cassandra asked, clearly sensing his discomfort.

They slowed to a stop as he pondered his answer.

“If it wasn’t enough to close the Breach, what use is it?”

She frowned but nodded in understanding at his concern, “You did everything we asked of you.”

“And it still didn’t work.”

She placed a firm hand on his shoulder, “What’s important is that your mark is now stable. As is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed - provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place.” Sighing, she took her hand back, “That is not easy to come by.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?” he said sardonically.

Cassandra chuckled, offering him a genuine smile, “Hold on to that sense of humor.”

“My sense of humor is the only thing keeping me sane right now, Seeker.”

She gestured towards the war room, “Shall we?”

He nodded, “Let’s get this over with.”

Cassandra opened the door for them and they both stepped in only for Anders to take one look around the room and immediately turn around to leave before panic could choke him.

Apparently Cassandra expected this and caught him by the collar before he could escape. “No you don’t.” She huffed, kicking the door closed, “You will have to face this eventually. Get it over with now so we can move forward.”

“You can’t be serious.” Came an unfortunately familiar voice Anders honestly didn’t want to hear, “It’s _him_?”

“We told you it was the mage involved in the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry.”

“Yes, but I thought you meant the other Hawke. The Champion’s twin.”

It just had to be fucking _Cullen_ of all people. The very bastard that allowed all of those atrocities in Kirkwall to transpire simply by turning a blind eye. Meredith’s second in command.

Justice was starting to froth within him, flickers of blue clouding his vision.

“Cassandra, let me go.” It was a plea before Justice took over. _We can’t do this here._

_He is to blame. An accomplice._

_We have to protect Liam. That has to take priority._

Justice left a disgruntled taste in Anders’ mouth but conceded.

“Yes, just let this apostate walk out where he can kill more people. What a fine plan.”

And then Justice was back so instantaneously, Anders would have fallen over if he hadn’t been so suddenly enraged.

He whirled in Cassandra’s grasp, eyes glowing blue and cracks of light on his skin as he snarled, “And what of all the lives lost to those under _your_ watch, _Knight-Captain_ ?” Justice distorted his voice but he was still in control for now, “When do _you_ have to atone for all the blood you let run through the streets of Kirkwall?”

Cullen glared at him but kept his mouth blessedly shut.

“If you continue to see mages as less than people with hopes and dreams and ambitions and basic _rights_ then I can already see this endeavor is doomed to failure.” he turned to Cassandra, “I cannot stay here.”

“What? So the Chantry wasn’t enough? The Conclave?” Cullen shouted, “You would doom the whole world for your petty ambitions?”

“ _My ambitions died with Hawke_.” Anders snapped back, “Your Chantry has taken multiple friends and lovers from me and I’ll be damned if I let it touch the last thing I have left of any importance.”

“Enough.” Cassandra huffed, “Both of you, calm down. We cannot let the past get in the way of addressing the current threat.” She pointed between them, “The Breach is still in the sky. I will insist on maintaining a professional attitude both in the war room and in front of members of the Inquisition. You can hate each other in private.”

Cullen glowered but nodded.

She turned to Anders, “Put your demon away. We cannot remind the Chantry that you are an abomination.”

He huffed at her but willed Justice down.

The silence was tense but Anders kept his gaze averted.

“Now then. Let us continue.” Cassandra sighed, “Cullen leads the Inquisition’s forces.” She gestured to the only person in the room Anders didn’t know, “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

The woman’s features were carefully neutral until she offered him a smile, “I’ve heard much. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

Yeah that was a diplomatic greeting if he’d ever heard one. Anders nodded his greeting to her.

“And of course you know Sister Leliana.” Cassandra continued.

Leliana inclined her head towards him, “My position here involves a degree of-”

“She is our spymaster.”

Leliana blinked before chuckling, “Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Anders looked around at the lot of them, carefully avoiding Cullen’s gaze before sighing, “Cassandra tells me you have a plan?”

Cassandra nodded, “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana interjected.

Anders felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Now there was an idea. If only he could be certain this wasn’t some ploy to round the mages up for templar slaughter.

“And I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well.” Cullen said.

Anders snorted but didn’t provide a comment despite Cullen’s glare.

Cassandra sighed and levelled the templar with an exasperated stare, “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-”

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach. Weaken it so-”

“Pure speculation.” Leliana interrupted him.

At least everyone else in the room understood templars were useless.

“ _I_ was a templar.” Cullen implored, “I know what they’re capable of.”

Anders scowled at that. Every mage alive and dead knew what the templars were capable of and it was nothing good.

“Unfortunately neither group will even speak to us yet.” the ambassador added, “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition- and you, specifically.” She pointed her quill at the mage.

“That didn’t take long.” Anders laughed mirthlessly.

“Shouldn’t they be arguing over who’s going to become Divine?” Cullen snapped, annoyed.

That was surprising coming from him. Were all the templars so disenchanted with the institution that laid the foundation for the very principles on which they were founded? Apparently following Chantry law wasn’t enough if they weren’t allowed to slaughter mages indiscriminately.

Anders’ scowl deepened.

“Some are calling you, a mage, in fact the mage that destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry, the Herald of Andraste.” Josephine continued, “That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy and we, heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.” Cassandra groused.

“It limits our options. Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.”

Anders was currently still hung up on part of that statement, his mind unable to make any sense out of what was just said. “Just how am I the ‘ _Herald of Andraste_ ’?” he choked out in disbelief.

“People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. “Cassandra explained, “They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

“But it was Hawke…”

“The truth is irrelevant here.” Leliana stopped him, raising a hand, “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading-”

“Which we have not.” Cassandra interrupted, receiving a slightly perturbed look from the Left Hand in response.

“The point is, everyone is talking about you.”

Anders chewed on the information, “I… would rather they didn’t”

“Perhaps then you shouldn’t have involved yourself in the Conclave.” Cullen supplied helpfully.

Anders glared at him, “I’m no Herald of anything. Particularly not Andraste. Maker’s breath, could you imagine?”

Cullen’s humorless chuckle grated on his nerves, “There are plenty around who would agree with that. Especially the Chantry.”

Leliana shook her head at both them, “People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.”

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong.” Josephine added.

Anders could not believe what he was hearing, though he really should not have been surprised, he supposed. A rogue mage as the symbol for an upstart organization? Of course they would focus on the ‘mage’ part instead of the true issue. “They aren’t more concerned about the Breach? The real threat?” he asked.

“They do know it’s a threat. They just don’t think we can stop it.” Cullen answered.

“The Chantry is telling everyone you’ll make it worse.”

Anders snorted humorlessly at Josephine’s words, “That _does_ sound like something they would say.”

“And they will continue to say it despite the good you do here.” Cassandra agreed, nodding to his arched eyebrow as he looked to her in confusion, “I received a report that you were helping the injured who were found near the temple. I assume you will be helping there where you can?”

Anders nodded, deciding to ignore the fact that she was apparently keeping an eye on him. At least she was subtle about it.

“There is something you can do.” Leliana suddenly added, “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you.” she pointed at the map laid across the table, “She is not far and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Anders blinked at that, immediately suspicious, “She’s asked for me? You don’t think that could be an ambush?”

The spymaster giggled lightly, “I doubt it. From what I know of her, she is a kind soul and not the sort to involve herself in violence. You will find her tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

“We will need to consider spreading our influence as far as possible.” Cullen added, “See what you can do about expanding it while you are there.”

Anders frowned. Ugh. Politics.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley.” Josephine said, seemingly sensing his distaste, “and you are better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

“I think you might find blowing up a Chantry and killing a Grand Cleric to be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“It is how we present the information that matters. You may perhaps convince them you are trying to atone for past transgressions. Or maybe tell them of your plight. Varric says you’ve written a manifesto.”

He squinted at her but found no teasing in her words. She was serious about that then. Strange.

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options.” Cassandra suggested, “I won’t leave this all to the Herald.”

Anders winced at the title, “Please don’t call me that.”

“It is what you are now.” She levelled him with a serious stare, “We must embrace it and you if we are to succeed. Which means we must all address you in the proper manner with the proper title given by our supporters.”

He sighed. Of course. Time for propaganda. Wouldn’t be a war without it.

“Let us prepare for travel.” She turned and walked from the room, expecting him to follow, which he did.

At least they had a lead on how to proceed. And in a few days time, hopefully Leliana could deliver on her promise and make this act of figure-heading a little more bearable.

* * *

For what it was worth, the trip wasn’t so bad. Varric and Solas both told stories during their down time, and when they finally reached the crossroads, he was in a much better mood.

At least until they had to protect the crossroads from a joint attack of templars crazed beyond belief and mages drunk on freedom to the point of insanity.

It disappointed and frustrated him but he supposed he understood. To a degree anyway.

Once the Inquisition banner had been placed, declaring the crossroads protected, Cassandra left them to speak to a Corporal who had been stationed here to see how they could help. Solas and Varric took to wandering the scarce market stalls while Anders hunted down the Chantry Mother.

She wasn’t hard to find, tucked into the shade of a residence that acted as an impromptu infirmary. The wounded were tended to by, surprisingly, a handful of mages. Probably spirit healers like him. They all seemed predisposed as the Mother was knelt next to one man putting up quite a fuss.

He approached slowly, listening to their conversation as he did.

“There are mages here who can heal your wounds. Lie still.” she said softly in a heavy Orlesian accent. He was surprised to hear no disdain for the mages in her words but it didn’t quell his suspicion.

The man continued to struggle and Anders noted idly that he had several lacerations that would have been bleeding heavily if not for the hasty bandage job to staunch the flow. He was in rough shape.

“Don’t... let them touch me, Mother.” He growled, clearly in pain, “Their magic is-”

“Turned to noble purpose.” came the reply, “Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.”

That was a different stance from the Chantry. Where was this Mother when he had been in Kirkwall?

“But…”

“Hush, dear boy.” She silenced the man as Anders walked up behind her slowly, “Allow them to ease your suffering.”

As the man finally listened and settled, Anders leaned around her and flooded the man with rejuvenating energy before beginning to heal his wounds.

She didn’t move, but he knew she was looking at him.

He didn’t spare her a glance, too focused on healing, but he did acknowledge her, “Mother Giselle?”

“I am.” She nodded, “And you must be the one they’re calling the Herald of Andraste.”

He grinned bitterly, “That’s the rumor.” Another mage stepped up to take over, allowing him to step away with a subtle nod, “Though not through any choice of mine.”

She chuckled and he found himself relaxing just slightly, “We seldom have much say in our fate, I’m sad to say.”

Confusion creased his brow, peppered generously with disbelief, “So you agree with them? Even knowing who I am and what I’ve done?”

“I don’t presume to know the Maker’s intentions, for any of us.” she said, diplomatically, “But I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me.”

“Then why am I here?”

She gestured and they began to walk slowly up the path leading to the injured, away from them. “I know of the Chantry’s denouncement,” She began, “and I’m familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you: Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine.”

“So the world ends around them while they scrabble like vultures over a carcass.” He was suddenly glad he was part of the faction actually doing something about Corypheus and the Breach.

She nodded in agreement, to his surprise, “The allure of power easily grabbed through chaos is not only a bane upon mages. Some of them, however, are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us.” she bowed her head solemnly.

“But don’t you stand with the rest of the Chantry?” Anders asked, suspicions strengthening. Was she power grabbing too? He couldn’t wrap his mind around her reasoning outside of furthering the Chantry’s ideologies amongst the Inquisition. Inviting her in could sow even more dissent between her and Roderick. Maker forbid they start working together.

She hummed as if sensing his hesitance. It would be clear to her that kind eyes and a few gentle words would not forgive years of Chantry sanctioned abuse. “With no Divine, we are each left to our own conscience - and mine tells me this. Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared.”

He stumbled a bit. Alright that was clearly a trap. “You can’t possibly be suggesting that I waltz into Val Royeaux with the blood of a Grand Cleric on my hands and appeal to them. They still think I’m responsible for the Conclave explosion.”

“That is precisely my point.” She shook her head, “They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.” and then she smiled, “And if you happen to sway a few clerics towards sympathy for the plight of the mages, then that is only good news for your brothers and sisters in Redcliffe.”

“They want to execute me, and you think I should just walk up to them?”

“You are no longer alone.” She reminded him, “They cannot imprison or attack you.”

He scowled at that, “Forgive me, but I’ve noticed that diplomatic immunity does not save you from zealots. Not even becoming a Grey Warden could keep the templars away and I died because of it.”

Her lips pursed and he could almost see the gears turning through her extremely tall hat, “Let me put it this way: You needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to _doubt_. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need.”

He snorted, “You make it sound simple.” but it was at least sounding plausible. Even if it was crazy.

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us or perhaps, at the very least, _atone_ … but I hope.” She smiled softly at him, the wrinkles of her eyes crinkling with wisdom and understanding he never experienced from any Chantry cleric, “In Kirkwall, Justice was needed. You were a voice for so many without.”

Shocked, his eyebrows shot up, “You… approve of Kirkwall?”

Giselle gave him a withered look, “I cannot condone violence but the treatment of the mages there was a great injustice. Your prior attempts at peaceful resolution were commendable.”

And his scowl returned, “For all the good it did. Elthina was second to the Divine. Her hold over the templars was not as weak as she made it seem and it cost mages their lives or their autonomy. One word could have saved so many but she insisted on treating Meredith and Orsino like bickering siblings. So I’m not going to apologize for what I did. There cannot be peace while mages are still being treated as less than people.”

Giselle held up a hand in surrender, “I would not ask it of you. The past is past and cannot be changed.” She sighed, “I merely mean to suggest that now is the time for you to become an avatar of hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us…” she tilted her head, “or destroy us.”

“Those decisions aren’t mine to make.” He insisted.

“Perhaps.” She agreed, “But you may find your voice needed much more for such things later on.”

He shuddered internally at the thought.

She looked out amongst the people milling about the crossroads, then back to the wounded, “I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.”

Anders sighed as he watched her walk back towards the wounded.

A whistle caught his attention and he looked over to see Varric waving him down, Solas and Cassandra next to him.

“Well?” Cassandra asked as he walked up to them, “What did Mother Giselle say?”

“She thinks I should appeal to the clerics at Val Royeaux.” he said bitterly.

“Is she insane?” Varric asked incredulously, “They’d sooner have you killed than hear you out.”

“That’s what I said. But she thinks that showing up would get some of them to doubt and that would give us time to get our shit together.”

“What a load of horse shit. This is clearly a trap. Right, Seeker?” Varric turned to look at Cassandra but she didn’t appear to agree.

“It is possible such a showing would destabilize the unified voices of the clerics, especially without the templars to back them up. A risk but, with enough information and influence, one with great reward.”

Varric blinked at her, “You can’t be serious.”

“We must look at all options, no matter the risk.”

Anders ran his hands over his face slowly as he took a great, suffering breath. The silence stretched into uncomfortable territory but he finally spoke, voice slightly muffled by his hands, “So we’re going to Val Royeaux.”

“Let us discuss it back in Haven after our business is concluded here. There are some tasks to complete for the refugees before seeking mounts for the Inquisition.” They followed as she led them through the crossroads.

“Mounts?” Anders asked.

“Horses, Blondie.” Varric clarified.

Anders felt his pulse quicken at the mention of the beasts and he groaned in despair.

This day was just getting worse and worse.


	5. Blessed Are They Who Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the title song here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tb0CwlQW0M)
> 
> A bit of a filler chapter here.

Anders chewed his thumbnail to the quick as he reread the thousandth rewrite of his manifesto.

The pages were carefully spread out in front of him on Hawke’s bed, the fire crackling away in the fireplace. He was on his side of the bed that Branwyn had delegated for him, though admittedly they ended up in the middle more often than not with how they wrapped around each other. When he had first moved in, he had slept closest to the window but she had quickly switched with him once it became clear how cold he became overnight just from how thin he was. Since she ran about as hot a furnace naturally, she graciously gave him the side closest to the fire.

Normally the bed was deemed a ‘no manifesto zone’. A rule set in place by Hawke to make sure he actually slept, but sometimes there were allowed exceptions. For example, in the morning he would be heading to the Chantry to finally be heard by the Grand Cleric. It was imperative to the cause that everything be perfect, so Branwyn had conceded that he should triple check and quadruple check everything. He had been able to add a few more anecdotes because of it.

This reread was the twelfth check by this point in the evening. Branwyn had excused herself to take care of the dishes they had brought up for dinner, doing them herself instead of waking Bodahn like a normal noble would. She was practical like that. Nobility had been a struggle for her to get used to. All of the Hawkes had really had a rough time of it, except maybe Leandra, but she had been an Amell first and her support dealing with the upper echelon of Hightown had been invaluable to furthering the goals of the Underground. It was what had led to Elthina finally giving him the time of day.

He was appreciative but his stress over this meeting was at an all time high. This had to go perfectly. Maker forbid the meeting reach Meredith before he’d said his peace.

Caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Branwyn re-enter the room. Indeed, he didn’t even realize she had climbed into the bed with him until she pressed her lips to his bare shoulder.

He startled just slightly before relaxing into the affection, still keeping his attention mostly on his scattered papers.

“You’re wound pretty tight.” She observed, voice a little rougher than her normal cadence, “Perhaps it’s time to call it a night on the manifesto?”

He hummed, picking up a different sheet, “It has to be perfect.”

She lightly bit his shoulder in reprimand, “I’ve watched you reread it six times now and change nothing.” Her hand found his cheek and turned him to look at her, “It’s as good as it is going to get. You’re going to do great tomorrow.”

He wished he could be so confident. Biting his lip, he glanced back to the papers.

But this only made her huff, “Then I’m invoking the rule. Papers out of my bed.” she started collecting them, thankfully in order, and yanked the pages from his hands.

“But-”

She cut off his protest with a kiss to the cheek, “You won’t get anywhere if you look terrible due to insomnia from working yourself into a ball of anxiety.” She bounced the pages against her lap to tidy them before setting them on the nightstand. “Now relax.”

That was easier said than done, but she was right. He did need to sleep. His protests fell silent at the realization and he just frowned instead.

When she turned back, her expression softened and she held out her arms for him, “Come here.”

And he went like he always did, scooting closer to her so she could envelop him in a warm and loving embrace. Surprisingly, though, instead of pulling him in, she used the hold to push him onto his back, straddling his waist.

There was a breathtaking moment where he looked up at her and saw perfection.

Her eyes sparkled with a viridescent mischief. She allowed her house robe to slip off a shoulder, exposing the soft curve of her collar, chestnut skin warm and awash with molten orange from the firelight. Her jasper-colored hair was untied, falling over her still-covered shoulder and casting that side of her face in shadow as she looked down at him with an expression of pure affection and admiration, mouth parted just slightly on full lips accented only by the angular shape of her face.

She was gorgeous. And she was _his_.

How could he have ever been so lucky?

She smiled at him softly and, for a moment, he worried he’d said the thought aloud. But she leaned down and kissed him so sweetly, he thought for certain his teeth would fall right out of his mouth.

He was getting dizzy when she finally pulled back, lips only a breath from his. “You need to relax.” she told him, “Think about something else?”

He swallowed, considering chasing her mouth before deciding better of it, “Like what?”

A hum escaped her and she sat up a little, adjusting her position on his lap, “How about… you tell me one thing you love about me and I will reward you with a kiss on an undisclosed part of you.”

He raised a brow, “Undisclosed?”

“Could be anywhere.” she grinned, “Could be _everywhere_.”

Anders snickered at her but did settle back onto the pillows more comfortably. This was certainly an exercise he could appreciate.

“You can do me later.” She promised.

“I intend to.”

“Ooh, saucy.” her giggle was nearly infectious and she rocked her hips against him lightly in both reward and impatience. “Come on then. Thing number one. Go.” She framed her profile dramatically with the back of her hand and batted her eyelashes at him.

He chuckled and sighed, “Shall I start with the obvious?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Your eyes.”

She beamed at him and leaned down to kiss his cheek, “What about them?”

“They’re always so bright and they see _everything_.” His fingers danced at the hem of her shirt but waited for her instruction to do more, "They’re green like moss in the forest and they sparkle when you want to cause trouble.”

A hum and she rewarded him by dragging her lips up to his temple to press a kiss there, “What else?”

His hand raised up to slip his fingers into her soft locks, “Your hair is always so soft and perfect. A shade of red I’ve never seen before.”

Another kiss, this time on his ear lobe and then a sneaky bonus peck beneath it, “Keep going.”

He shuddered, sensitive as she dragged her lips down his neck slowly, pausing where it me his shoulder in the hollow of his collar bone.

“Mmm…” he hummed appreciatively, his free hand finding one of hers on his chest, “Your hands are always so steady. Strong.”

She giggled as she pressed another kiss to his skin, “You just like being manhandled.”

“Guilty.” he admitted without a hint of remorse.

She left playful nips on his collar bone before seemingly forgoing her rule and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his chest to the center where that ever present scar was raised and pale against already white skin. She gave it extra attention, perhaps reflecting on how this moment might never have happened if not for Justice.

Anders enjoyed the affection with his eyes half closed, shivering when her lips grazed a particularly sensitive spot. By now she knew how to play him like a lute and not only was he powerless to stop her, he never really wanted to. He could forget about everything else here with her, if only for a few hours.

Hawke gave him a warning nip and a pointed glance, causing him to twitch, but he understood the message. He was falling behind and getting lost in his head again. Unacceptable.

He thought a moment, trying to think of something other than physical traits. It wasn’t that he was lacking material, quite the contrary. Picking one was the hard part.

She had stopped pressing kisses into his skin, waiting on his next answer, and he took that reprieve from sensational assault to cup her chin and thumb lightly at her plump bottom lip.

“I love your mouth.” he began, “It can talk us out of so many situations, but you’re not afraid to be aggressive when one of us is on the line.”

She smiled at him, but that smile turned wicked as she pulled his thumb between her lips and tongued at it teasingly.

He couldn’t stop a groan from escaping. Of course her mouth could do that. He loved that too.

She hummed as she released his thumb and readjusted her body so she could move lower on his, “One more and then I’ll give you your reward.” she promised, kissing a hot, slow trail down his stomach, causing his abdomen to twitch in anticipation and his breath to shake.

With her goal clear, he found it hard to focus, tangling his fingers gently in her hair as he closed his eyes to the heavenly sight of her and tried to concentrate.

“Um…” he began eloquently, shivering as she nipped at his navel, “I love… how obsessed you are with making good memories.”

He felt her hesitate and opened his eyes a crack to find see her smiling sadly at him.

Branwyn leaned back up and kissed him so intently that he thought she might pull his soul from his mouth. He would let her if she did.

“Sometimes the only thing left is a good memory.” she admitted when she finally let him breathe, “If something should happen to me, material objects are all temporary. A good memory is a much more permanent thing to leave behind.”

“Everything has power as long as it’s remembered.” he echoed the saying from a different era of his life that a different Amell descendent taught him.

Her smile was soft, happy at his understanding, “Exactly.”

He wondered if she knew how̴ ̷s̷o̴ỏ̴̱̑n̷͚̤̲̔̓̐͝ ̶̛̖̯̑̈ṯ̷͖̒͜h̸̢̲͓̑͜͝ä̴̢̲̮̤́t̵̪͍̫̽̅ͅͅ ̸̧̢̼̱͙̙̅̂͋͗̿͜p̵̖̼̭̥̔̂̇͜ļ̶͇̫̙̦̯̒̋̈́ä̶͕̜͙͇̭͎̱̈n̶̛̯̫̿̽͒̂̈́͗n̸̙̠̱̳̎̊̈̂̀ͅḭ̸̗̣̺̭̪̍̋̂́͂̕n̶̲̪͕̱̞͋͆ͅḡ̸͓̙̺͉ ̷͂ͅw̸̢̧̝̟͚̲͆̋̓ö̷̺̙́u̷̲̣̩̮̝͂̾͐̓͘͜ļ̸̗̫͇̫͖́̀̃̆͝͝ͅd̸̞̪̺͔̩̣̖̓ ̴̭͙͇̃͜c̵̛̲͓̀̔͝o̸̤̝̜̳̐̂̆̊̉͑̇m̴̥̰̤̻̬̓̈́̈́e̴͉̟̳͇̼̻̫͒̔̚͘͝ ̷̹̐͛͂̕͘i̶̛̟͊̅͌n̴̢̡͈̥̣̓͋́̽̐͘ẗ̶͉́̂͊̔ǫ̵̰̖͖͈̪̅̉̎̄͋̕̚ ̶̫̦̪̙͍̦̒̆̐̽̃͛̈́u̷̢͙͉͇̥͒̽̄̌̈s̸̤̐ē̴̙͍̋́.

**_̵̰̮́́̿͋͝_̴̨̧̢̛̘̹͓̣͔̈̊̆̑̅̈́͋̓_̸̧̢̛̦̊̋_̷̩͔̘̼͙̲͍́_̶̖͍̤̞̫̲͙̹̬̹̙͍́͌̒͋͛_̵̼͎̟̞̗͍̉̊̍̀͑̿̓́̊͌͝_̸̟̣͐͝_̸̡̡̨̫̤̦͕̲͎̜̯̒ͅ_̴̢̧̬͖̹̟̤̮̱̙̜̄̕_̷̯͇̤͎͉̣̂̂̀̈̎̈́̏͘͝_̷̡͓͚͎̫̮̘̖̝̽͂̈́͂͗̾_̴̪̻̼̹͆̿͒̋́̉̏̓̈́̾_̶̢̻̜̥͖̠̪̺̻͍͈͖͑̆͆͝_̷̙̮͓͉͍̺̀̎͒͋͐̋̾͝ͅ_̸̦̀_̸̗̹͖̪̜͙̙̹̥͊̓͆̊̓͜_̴̢̖̜̈̅_̷̨̌̓̂̕_̸̛͈̭̤̝̼̮͍͖̊͋͗̋̂͐̒͘_̷̧̢͍̹̠͈͍͓̏͒͊̑́̄̀̓̋͝ͅ_̵̡̛̥͈̮͎̹͙͎̼̬̀̍̇͂̐̀͒̚_̴̬̈́̐̓̍̈͗̎̚_̴̘͈̻̤̖̖̞̖̠̖̍̎̏̒_̸̡͇̼̮̝̝̩̟̪̜̌̋͗̎͝͝_̵̭̲̻̉͛̄̍̋̐̽͐͜͝ͅ_̶̩̩͒͛͗͆̕_̶̣̲̰̂͛̒͐̍̅̉̚̕_̵̧̛̘͖̪̩̪̭͎̥̦̥̙̀͋̅͌̒̊̎͘͝_̷̘̩͍̿̋̑̌͗̊͗̚̕_̷̧̬̖̱̭̪̆͛̓͒͊͘_̶͇̞̖̭̩̣̣̜͓̳̲͐̓̑͐̊_̵̡̻̻͊̂_̶̰̩̺͉͌͆̐̄͆͆́̿̓̏͜_̷͈̖̘̝͓̖̖͕͔͚̫́͌̊̍͆̐͒̊̕͠ͅ_̷͖̰̞̰̲͙̲͆̒̉͜͝_̵̛͙̰̥̩̟͚̞͑̄̈͘_̵̢̠͇̱͖̲͋̌͐̾͌̊̎_̵̬͇̿̄͜͝_̷̛̱͙͕͉̅̃̓̎̂̒̍͝_̴̧̝̞͉͎͔͍̝͇̿̃̉̌̒͊̚̕͝_̶̛̣̘̠̮̟̲͓̫̅̐̋̐̅̂͊̚͝͝_̵̬̝͑̿͒_̶͓̬̜̲̻̈͒̔̉̂̃̊͝_̷̧̛̩̺͔̳̭͙̟̩͔̊̎̎̊̑̎̇_̶̨̦̙̫̺̭̠̻̟͐͌_̷̢̟̫͔̪͎̤̰̗̘̫̼̋̽͋͗͗̑̅̓̋͝_̵̨̰̝̠̖̮̐͊_̵̰̮́́̿͋͝_̴̨̧̢̛̘̹͓̣͔̈̊̆̑̅̈́͋̓_̸̧̢̛̦̊̋_̷̩͔̘̼͙̲͍́_̶̖͍̤̞̫̲͙̹̬̹̙͍́͌̒͋͛_̵̼͎̟̞̗͍̉̊̍̀͑̿̓́̊͌͝_̸̟̣͐͝_̸̡̡̨̫̤̦͕̲͎̜̯̒ͅ_̴̢̧̬͖̹̟̤̮̱̙̜̄̕_̷̯͇̤͎͉̣̂̂̀̈̎̈́̏͘͝_̷̡͓͚͎̫̮̘̖̝̽͂̈́͂͗̾_̴̪̻̼̹͆̿͒̋́̉̏̓̈́̾_̶̢̻̜̥͖̠̪̺̻͍͈͖͑̆͆͝_̷̙̮͓͉͍̺̀̎͒͋͐̋̾͝ͅ_̸̦̀_̸̗̹͖̪̜͙̙̹̥͊̓͆̊̓͜_̴̢̖̜̈̅_̷̨̌̓̂̕_̸̛͈̭̤̝̼̮͍͖̊͋͗̋̂͐̒͘_̷̧̢͍̹̠͈͍͓̏͒͊̑́̄̀̓̋͝ͅ_̵̡̛̥͈̮͎̹͙͎̼̬̀̍̇͂̐̀͒̚_̴̬̈́̐̓̍̈͗̎̚_̴̘͈̻̤̖̖̞̖̠̖̍̎̏̒_̸̡͇̼̮̝̝̩̟̪̜̌̋͗̎͝͝_̵̭̲̻̉͛̄̍̋̐̽͐͜͝ͅ_̶̩̩͒͛͗͆̕_̶̣̲̰̂͛̒͐̍̅̉̚̕_̵̧̛̘͖̪̩̪̭͎̥̦̥̙̀͋̅͌̒̊̎͘͝_̷̘̩͍̿̋̑̌͗̊͗̚̕_̵̰̮́́̿͋͝_̴̨̧̢̛̘̹͓̣͔̈̊̆̑̅̈́͋̓_̸̧̢̛̦̊̋_̷̩͔̘̼͙̲͍́_̶̖͍̤̞̫̲͙̹̬̹̙͍́͌̒͋͛_̵̼͎̟̞̗͍̉̊̍̀͑̿̓́̊͌͝_̸̟̣͐͝_̸̡̡̨̫̤̦͕̲͎̜̯̒ͅ_̴̢̧̬͖̹̟̤̮̱̙̜̄̕_̷̯͇̤͎͉̣̂̂̀̈̎̈́̏͘͝_̷̡͓͚͎̫̮̘̖̝̽͂̈́͂͗̾_̴̪̻̼̹͆̿͒̋́̉̏̓̈́̾_̶̢̻̜̥͖̠̪̺̻͍͈͖͑̆͆͝_̷̙̮͓͉͍̺̀̎͒͋͐̋̾͝ͅ_̸̦̀_̸̗̹͖̪̜͙̙̹̥͊̓͆̊̓͜_̴̢̖̜̈̅_̷̨̌̓̂̕_̸̛͈̭̤̝̼̮͍͖̊͋͗̋̂͐̒͘_̷̧̢͍̹̠͈͍͓̏͒͊̑́̄̀̓̋͝ͅ_̵̡̛̥͈̮͎̹͙͎̼̬̀̍̇͂̐̀͒̚_̴̬̈́̐̓̍̈͗̎̚_̴̘͈̻̤̖̖̞̖̠̖̍̎̏̒_̸̡͇̼̮̝̝̩̟̪̜̌̋͗̎͝͝_̷̙̮͓͉͍̺̀̎͒͋͐̋̾͝ͅ_̸̦̀_̸̗̹͖̪̜͙̙̹̥͊̓͆̊̓͜_̴̢̖̜̈̅_̷̨̌̓̂̕_̸̛͈̭̤̝̼̮͍͖̊͋͗̋̂͐̒͘_̷̧̢͍̹̠͈͍͓̏͒͊̑́̄̀̓̋͝ͅ_̵̡̛̥͈̮͎̹͙͎̼̬̀̍̇͂̐̀͒̚_̴̬̈́̐̓̍̈͗̎̚_̴̘͈̻̤̖̖̞̖̠̖̍̎̏̒_̸̡͇̼̮̝̝̩̟̪̜̌̋͗̎͝͝_̷̙̮͓͉͍̺̀̎͒͋͐̋̾͝ͅ_̸̦̀_̸̗̹͖̪̜͙̙̹̥͊̓͆̊̓͜_̴̢̖̜̈̅_̷̨̌̓̂̕_̸̛͈̭̤̝̼̮͍͖̊͋͗̋̂͐̒͘_̷̧̢͍̹̠͈͍͓̏͒͊̑́̄̀̓̋͝ͅ_̵̡̛̥͈̮͎̹͙͎̼̬̀̍̇͂̐̀͒̚_̴̬̈́̐̓̍̈͗̎̚_̴̘͈̻̤̖̖̞̖̠̖̍̎̏̒_̸̡͇̼̮̝̝̩̟̪̜̌̋͗̎͝͝**

Anders jerked awake finding himself shivering, the pleasant warmth from the dream leaving him empty and bereft in its absence.

A quick glance around reminded him of everything.

Tent. Hinterlands. Of course.

Sitting up, he felt tears that had pooled in his eyes while he slept fall down his cheeks. He remembered that night so vividly and even now he marveled at how Hawke always planned ahead. Though, if the dream was supposed to quell his anxiety, it had the opposite effect.

He tucked against his knees and sobbed, trying to muffle his sounds of despair so as not to wake anyone.

It didn’t stop Varric from hearing though. The dwarf must have already been awake, preparing for their visit with the horse master. He didn’t hear the flaps of his tent open but he felt Varric’s presence as he sat beside him in silence.

A hand patted his back and he choked on his next sob. Maybe it was his enhanced connection to the Fade but he couldn’t control his emotions anymore. It was too exhausting to try. This thing on his hand opened the floodgates and he couldn’t deny the strange relief he felt after crying himself out.

He wondered if Varric thought him pathetic in this state. He certainly didn’t deserve this sympathy.

Too late to do anything about it now.

Still…

It took several attempts but he managed to calm down just enough to croak out, “I’m sorry.”

He could feel Varric hesitate before responding, “I’ve seen you in worse states than this, Blondie.”

“No just about this.” he clarified, “About everything. Everything I touch turns to shit, I just-... I should…” he sucked in a staggering breath, “Maker, I have to tell Cian.” And the next logical realization nearly shattered him, “I have to tell _Liam_.”

The panic that gripped him then was nearly violent. His chest tightened and no matter how much air he sucked in, he still felt like he was suffocating, like the world was collapsing around him.

Would they hate him? Leave him alone? Was he doomed to gain everything only to lose it all over and over again? The thought was unbearable.

If only he hadn’t opened his fucking mouth all those nights ago.

Stupid. Stupid, _stupid_ , **_stupid-_ **

Suddenly, Varric had ahold of his wrists and it only took until the pain flared in his head for him to realize he’d been muttering his thoughts aloud and slamming his fists into his skull in a fit.

Varric’s expression was frustrated and angrily concerned. “Hawke didn’t die just for you to give into Despair.” he chastised. Anders winced at that, ducking his head, “I know you haven’t been able to mourn properly with all this shit, but you’ve got obligations now, starting with putting on a brave face for the Inquisition.” The dwarf released his wrists once he was satisfied Anders wouldn’t start hitting himself again, “Everyone’s looking at you, Blondie. Maybe you’re a mess- no, you are a mess, but you can’t let anyone see that.”

Easier said than done.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Anders responded quietly, voice hoarse, “I feel like an imposter. I can’t be what they need me to be.”

“You’re more suited for this than you think, Blondie. Trust me.” Varric leaned in close, “All you gotta do is pretend. Pull out the charm. You’ll have everyone in your corner before you know it.”

The mage chewed his lip as he looked down at his hands, fingers twisting in anxiety. “I-” he paused, a perplexed look crossing his brow, “I was going to say I want to go home but… there’s nowhere to go. Hawke was home, but she’s gone now.”

Varric’s sigh was heavy, “Yeah.”

“I’m not… whole anymore. How can I be what anyone needs me to be> I can’t even control my emotions anymore with this.” he gestured with the mark.

“Blondie, you didn’t live your life as half a person before you met Hawke and you’re not half of one now. You’re hurting and that’s okay and it’ll feel like a piece of you has been ripped away but it will get easier. You just have to believe it.”

They were both quiet a long moment before Varric suddenly stood and stretched.

“Get dressed and come eat something.” he advised, “You’ll feel better once you’re full.” and he walked out of the tent after leaving friendly pat on the other man’s shoulder.

It took a moment but eventually Anders followed Varric’s advice, dressing himself and plastering a fake ‘everything is okay’ mask on his face. The others were already awake by the time he joined them outside his tent.

If he looked haggard, no one commented on it. Instead, when he sat next to Varric, the dwarf handed him a plate of roast rabbit. He ate without tasting it, refusing the second helping Varric knew his Warden body needed.

Cassandra was the first to finish and make preparations. Their camp had been established near a small stream at the start of the group of farms. The distance was vast as farms go. Clearly a network used to supplying the nation with food.

Some of the farms had been destroyed and others had been ransacked but he knew they were going to the larger farm on the hill where the mounts were.

They had already been here for a week, performing the tasks to put the horsemaster at ease. Today was the day they would ask him to leave his family and farm behind to serve Thedas under the Inquisition’s banner.

It didn’t seem like a fair request to him. Dennet had already agreed to provide the mounts, but Cassandra insisted they needed the best of the best to care for the creatures and no one argued with her. He certainly wasn’t going to.

“I have already confirmed the construction of the watchtowers has been completed.” Cassandra stated, “With the wolves taken care of and the nearby rift sealed, the horsemaster should feel comfortable enough to join us.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Anders asked warily.

“No one is forcing him. I can hardly blame him for putting his family first.” she tugged her gauntlet in an anxious tic, “But we should attempt it all the same. Cullen and Josephine’s suggestion to spread the Inquisition’s influence was a good one. One we should prioritize eventually.”

Anders only sighed.

“Come. We shouldn’t be late.”

Their party leisurely walked up the path to the larger house of the horsemaster. After a brief check-in with his son and wife, they were finally able to talk to the man himself.

“Inquisition.” Dennet greeted them cordially as he stepped aside to let them into his home, “Elaina says you got rid of those demon-cursed wolves. Should be safer for our farmers now.”

Anders nodded, grimacing at the reminder of the demon in the wolves’ den.

“You’ve held up your end of the bargain, Inquisition.” Dennet continued, “You’ll have my whole stable and good hands to go with it.”

For a moment Anders was confused as to why he was being addressed directly, but he shook the hand that was offered to him nonetheless.

Varric suddenly cleared his throat behind him but Cassandra beat him to the punch, “Will you be joining them, horsemaster?”

He glanced at her, unsure, and scratched at his beard, pondering, “Well you’ve cleaned up the area, and I can’t say I’m not tempted.” he cast a glance out the window where his wife could be seen tending crops, “Still… It feels wrong to abandon my land to go play horsemaster again.”

Cassandra jumped on his indecision, “Are you Andrastian?” Anders found that question surprising, seeing as the Chantry liked to squash you under heel if you weren’t. Considerate of her, really. “This is a matter of faith. The Maker would want the best to join us.”

Dennet nodded, “I’ve heard some things about you lot. Can’t say I’m not interested in what it all means.” Another scratch at his beard and then he squared his shoulders, “Alright, Inquisition. I’ll look to your horses myself. Never let it be said that Redcliffe gave less than the best. Just let me settle matters here and say goodbye to my wife. I’ll meet you at Haven.”

 _Well that was easy_ , Anders thought idly as they turned to go.

Dennet called after them before they could fully leave, however, “Before you leave, you should get a riding lesson from my daughter, Seanna, while the horses are comfortable. She should be down at the stables.”

Anders barely bit back the groan of despair that threatened to slide out of his throat. He felt Varric pat him on the back, clearly amused at his discomfort.

Cassandra thanked him and left them to the stables, Anders dragging his teeth the whole time. The horsemaster’s daughter was a chipper thing, all smiles as she greeted them and gestured to the four horses already saddled and waiting for riders.

“Father told me to make them ready for you.” she chirped, “Ferelden Forders. Sturdy girls. They’ll get you where you need to go.”

Solas and Cassandra both made their way over to introduce themselves to the bests.

Varric only clapped Anders on the back again with a chuckle, “Try not to look so terrified. They can sense that shit y’know.”

As if he needed a reminder of how keen the creatures were.

Seanna seemed just as intuitive, though, as she stepped up beside him, “Never ridden before?”

His smile was tight and anxious, “No need for horses in the Circle.”

Her mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of understanding, “I can teach you the basics if you like?”

“Please.”

She beamed at him and pulled on of the two remaining horses away from the others. “This is Petunia. She’s very patient with new riders. She’ll take good care of you. You just have to trust her.”

Anders eyed her chestnut hide warily, both hands firm around his staff as his anxiety mounted. It wasn’t often something was taller than him. He’d only heard of these things before, or seen them from a distance, but now he was expected to ride one.

“Can’t we just walk?” he asked not for the first time that day.

“No.” Cassandra’s reply was firm from atop her steed.

Varric chuckled and Anders was surprised to see he was also already mounted. “Blondie, here, is a little scared of horses.” he explained to the girl.

“Oh, she’s very gentle, ser. I promise.” Seanna pulled one of his hands from his staff and placed it on the horse’s flank, “You just need to get acquainted.”

The tension in his arm at touching the beast was so that he worried a moment he’d never be able to bed it again. Seanna didn’t seem to notice, though, as she slowly slid his palm along the creature’s back before pulling him around to the front and placing it upon her snout.

“Look into her eyes.” she instructed and Anders found himself obeying.

The dark brown seemed to see _into_ him and he shivered a moment before a strange sense of calm enveloped him. Perhaps acceptance at his situation. Perhaps Justice giving him a little nudge.

_We can do this._

Once Seanna felt the tension leave him, she smiled and pulled him to the side of the horse to begin her brief riding instruction.

It took several tries to mount the horse, some finding him flat on his back and winded. He tried not to think about how the others were watching him fail at this.

Eventually, he found himself successful, letting out a surprised yell as he settled into the saddle. Seanna had him practice with control and maneuvering for a bit before deeming him ‘well enough’ and unleashing him upon the roads.

Petunia, for her part, was indeed very patient and he thanked Seanna for her guidance.

He still wasn’t totally comfortable but at least he understood the basics enough in a pinch.

After, Cassandra approached him on her horse, amusement clear on her face. “Let us head back to Haven to alert everyone that we have the horsemaster arriving.”

Cheeks pink, Anders nodded and the four of them headed out.


	6. Before the Corrupt and the Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the title song here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tb0CwlQW0M)
> 
> Small chapter but the next one is literally 5 times longer so there's that.

It was a clear day but the wind swept brutally into the valley off of the mountains and left a chill in the bones of every soul in Haven that no one could shake.

Anders had seen his share of colds and flus but there was something psychologically straining about a frigid cold snap. Tempers ran hot to compensate and empathy was met with cold reception. Depression ran rampant, almost as viral as the sickness. Morale was declining.

They needed another win and fast.

The problem was that they were short on allies while more and more enemies popped up by the day. The trip to Val Royeaux in the following week was supposed to help mitigate that but, of course, that was not a guarantee. It could just as easily make things worse.

They needed a contingency plan in case it did.

An ancient darkspawn magister was not something a normal organization was equipped to handle. He knew of only one who could. Unfortunately, Anders was not thrilled about approaching them directly, but he did have ties to their leadership. The Hero of Ferelden; Warden-Commander Amell.

She had to help, right? This fell entirely under their jurisdiction. Perhaps if he could send her a message; let her know what they knew…

The problem there was that he didn’t know where she was and sending a letter directly to King Alistair in order to find out might cause more problems than it solved. Especially coming from him.

So he needed to discreetly find Amell to discreetly beg her to bail him out of this awful fucking situation.

Great.

Only one person here had the discretion and resources to do such a task.

Anders found himself in the tent outside the Chantry where the Left Hand operated out of, leaning against one of the poles as she accepted a report from one of her agents.

He tried hard not to think about their religiously charged and strained first encounter in here. It baffled him how she could be so kind and collected and understanding in one moment, then calculated, cold and ruthless the next.

To be quite honest, it terrified him.

Only Hawke had had that kind of mean streak in her and it was never unprovoked. She always had her sense of humor to balance it out.

Leliana was just that side of hardened that one misstep could turn her entirely away from the easy and fun-loving part of herself that had comforted him during his panic attack in the war room.

A visit from Amell might do more good than he initially thought.

He came back to the conversation in front of him as it appeared to be coming to a close.

“So it’s true. Butler has turned on us. I had hoped my hunch was wrong.” Leliana’s face was carefully molded into one of her calm, expressionless masks as she spoke as though contemplating the weather.

“You knew him well?” The agent asked, curiously, seemingly used to the spymaster’s ways.

“Not as well as I thought.” A stack of documents on the table in front of her seemed unassuming but she tapped them lightly with a finger before pushing them aside slowly, “There were so many questions surrounding Ferrier’s death. Did he think we wouldn’t notice?” Her fingers curled against her palms were the only outward indication of her anger, “He’s killed Ferrier, one of my best agents, and knows where the others are.” A sigh before she released the tension in her hands and levelled her agent with a grim and serious stare, “You know what must be done. Make it clean, painless if you can. We were friends once.”

That grabbed Anders’ attention and hard. He pushed himself away from his post in horror at the realization of what she was ordering. All this death and she wanted more? “Wait, what are you doing?”

Leliana seemed surprised to see him a moment but her mask settled back in quickly, “He betrayed us. He murdered my agent.”

“And you’d kill him? Just like that?”

“You find fault with my decision?” Her brow raised as she turned towards him. He could see what she was thinking. Surely he understood the need for death. But this was a much different circumstance.

“I’m sure most of your decisions are fine.” he placated, “But that one? A little extreme.”

The incredulity cracked the shell she wore and her voice rose, “Extreme?” she stepped closer and he almost stepped back, “Butler’s betrayal put our agents in danger. I condemned one man to save dozens. I may not like what I do but it must be done. I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this.”

He couldn’t believe that statement came from her mouth. This whole damned Inquisition was based on it. “Now is precisely the time for ideals.” he argued.

Her eyes narrowed and she turned away from him to slowly walk back to the table and finger the pages of the report she had pushed aside earlier. “You feel very strongly about this.” she murmured.

He wondered if she thought him a hypocrite. “We start killing friends and we’ve already lost more than we can ever hope to reclaim.”

An annoyed sigh pushed from her chest, “Very well. I will think of another way to deal with this man.” Then she turned to her agent, “Apprehend Butler but… see that he lives.” and as the agent walked away, she didn’t even turn to Anders as she dismissed him, “Now if you’re happy, I’ve more work to do.”

Anders contemplated how smart it was to continue with the original reason he was there after having undermined her authority in front of her agent, but he knew the longer he waited, the harder it would be to find Amell. He had to.

“Actually… I was hoping to talk to you about something.” he nervously wrung his hands as she finally turned to look at him, “I want to discreetly write to Warden-Commander Amell about what’s happening here. She would know exactly how to handle this.”

“She would.” Leliana agreed, eyes narrowed.

“I know you knew her personally. I did too. We grew up in the Circle together and she saved my life multiple times when I was in the Wardens, but we fell out of touch after Amaranthine. I was hoping you knew where she was.”

Her silence was loud. Or perhaps he was just hearing a gathering growing outside the Chantry. A few robed figures ran past the tent, confirming that something was going on outside.

Finally, Leliana spoke, “The Warden-Commander was one of the first people I reached out to. I’ve not gotten word back from her but King Alistair has said she has been missing for months. Though, from his unworried tone, I would say he either knows where she is or at least has contact with her and his answer is our warning she is not to be disturbed.”

“This doesn’t count as an emergency situation?”

She opened her mouth to respond but something over his shoulder caught her eye and her brows furrowed.

There was angry shouting now and raised voices. It sounded like a mob was forming.

When he finally turned around and slowly walked to peer around the tent entrance, he saw the growing group of people. They were split in two and facing each other, clearly an argument in the center between what looked to be a mage and a templar.

Oh. Well that wasn’t going to end well.

“Your kind killed the Most Holy!” the templar shouted at the mage over the rabble.

This is bad. That’s bad. He turned to Leliana, eyes wide. “If they start fighting, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

Before they could react however, the mage responded. “Lies! Your kind let her die!”

“Shut your mouth, mage!” and as he reached to draw his sword, it was Cullen, surprisingly, who jumped in between them.

“Enough!” Cullen shouted, pushing them further apart.

“Knight-Captain!” the templar exclaimed, immediately backing off.

“That is not my title.” Cullen growled, “We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition.”

And of course the Instigator-in-Chief had to step out of the crowd to speak his ming, “And what does that mean exactly?”

“Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?” The disdain in Cullen’s voice rivaled the disgust Anders felt at the scene.

“I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and it’s Herald will restore order as you’ve promised.”

“Of course you are.” the Commander grumbled before dismissing the group, “Back to your duties, all of you.”

Thankfully everyone obeyed and dispersed, leaving the Commander and the Chancellor in a tense sort of standoff in front of the Chantry.

Normally Anders wouldn’t feel the need to press things further, and any excuse not to interact with Cullen or Roderick was one he was more than happy to take, but Leliana gestured to them expectantly. He sighed heavily and walked over.

“Mages and templars were already at war.” he heard Cullen say as he approached, “Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.”

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order.” Roderick argued resolutely, arms folded behind his back as he tried to make himself appear bigger next to the larger man.

“Who? You?” Cullen’s incredulity tinged his posture, arms folded, “Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

“The rebel Inquisition and it’s so-called Herald of Andraste?” he gestured to Anders as he stopped beside them, eyes narrowing at the mage’s wince, “I think not.”

Anders, though he was loathe to admit, had to agree with Cullen on this one, “If the proper authority hadn’t completely failed, the Conclave wouldn’t have been needed.”

Roderick incredulously stepped back, “So you suggest I blame the Chantry and exalt a murderer? What of justice?”

Anders felt the spirit stir at his name but managed to keep the glowing to a minimum. He could tell Justice had a few things to say in regards to the situation.

Best not to remind the cleric that he had a second passenger.

“That won’t help restore order in the here and now.” Cullen argued.

Roderick only laughed humorlessly, “Order will never be restored so long as this rebellion is allowed to fester.”

This guy really was delusional. It was amazing, though unsurprising, how hard the Chantry clun to the ‘our way is the only way’ mentality. Even in the face of doing good and saving lives, they would rather squash the Inquisition for working outside of their control than allow it to operate and continue the good work it was doing.

Asinine.

Anders turned to Cullen, against his better judgment, and asked, “Remind me why you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?”

“Clearly your templar knows where to draw the line.” Roderick responded with his smug superiority.

Anders winced hard, “Don’t call him that.”

“He’s toothless.” Cullen said, annoyed, “There’s no point in turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth.”

Interesting. “You’ve made martyrs for less.” Anders idly said, unthinking, and was able to ignore the sidelong glare Cullen gave him in response.

“The Chancellor is a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.” he continued.

“Good to know.”

A sudden bustle and shout from the gates drew their attention.

For a moment it seemed that maybe a fight had broken out after all, but instead of multiple shouts, it was one very young, very familiar one.

He felt himself straighten, eyes wide, searching. A group was headed towards them, soldiers and the like making way for them. He couldn’t see who was at the lead but he did see a familiar shade of rusty, red hair chasing something much smaller, followed slowly by a head of white.

That could only mean one thing.

“What in the Maker’s name is going on?” Cullen asked at the spectacle.

Then the young shout could be understood as it reached the top of the steps, “Papa!”

A little figure, a boy no older than four, rounded the tavern and stopped to look around, caught up by familiar green eyes shadowed by a familiar Mabari hound.

_It’s not her…_

Suddenly the boy spotted him and Anders still couldn’t believe it. Strawberry blonde hair framing golden eyes and cheeks still far too round from baby weight.

“Papa!” he shouted again and dashed towards them.

“Liam.” Anders breathed, feeling Justice surge within him with an elation that matched his own as he pushed past both Cullen and Roderick to meet him. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, arms held wide as he fell to his knees and the boy collided into his chest with a sob. He wrapped his arms around his son so tightly and hid his tears in his hair.

His boy, his _son_ was with him now.

Finally. It felt like a piece of him had slotted back into place and, while he knew he would never feel whole again, at least there was this. The relief radiating from him was palpable to every curious onlooker.

A pair of boots stopped just shy of them and Anders looked up to find Hawke’s eyes staring at him.

But it wasn’t his Hawke. Her twin, Cian, watched with a strange mix of emotions, but somehow Anders was surprised not to find an accusation among them.

Behind him, Fenris stood with Varric, watching the scene unfold curiously, no doubt looking for details to make a new book out of all this. The Mabari panted patiently beside him.

More people had gathered around to watch and Anders finally pulled Liam away from his chest to wipe his eyes and kiss his forehead. “I missed you, sweetheart.” he said, “I’m glad you got here safe.”

“I missed you too, papa.” came the sniffled reply, some of the onlookers cooing in delight.

Anders pulled the boy back into his arms to pick him up and stand again to face the rest of his family. All he had left now.

He held a hand out to Cian who shook it firmly, “I’m relieved to see you all safe.”

Cian nodded, “Wasn’t too difficult to find. Just followed the glowy pillar in the sky. Found you eventually.”

“This is a bloody mess, Cian, I-”

“Herald?”

Cassandra’s voice made him tense a moment, an old habit of a Circle mage caught with a happiness he wasn’t supposed to have. But he turned to meet her, Liam still on his hip and tucked tightly to his side.

“Who is this?” she asked, voice light as she regarded the child and the new men who didn’t seem to be normal recruits.

“Ah, Cassandra, this is Cian Hawke and Fenris.” he began, nodding to both of them as Cian stepped forward to shake her hand.

“You must be the Champion’s twin.” she noted, “And this is…?” she gestured to the boy her figurehead was holding.

“His name is Liam.” he told her firmly, smiling gently as the boy shyly waved from his tucked position, “He’s my son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Love to hear your thoughts (please talk to me) :)
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kaienne_pepper)  
> or on [Tumblr](https://kaiperion.tumblr.com/)


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